She's on the run along the canals. I can't tell what she's looking for, if anything. Love? Food? Just a distraction? A nice way to kill some time. The moon is but a sliver, but through a rift, on the outskirts of the horizons, there's some navy blue spilling out, as a premonition. The fox cuts across Greifswalder Strasse and starts following the street car tracks.
You've got to keep moving, right?
(He doesn't speak, he screams, when he's on the phone)
She sometimes talks to me as if I was an idiot. I guess I am when it comes to certain things. I am at a remedial level when it comes to faking a smile. And it's nearly impossible for me carrying more than two soup bowls without scalding myself, or leaving a trail of carrot-ginger splashes on the tiled floor. I hate that tone in her voice, that look on her face. Hate it. But then again, other times she's very sweet. Tells me how much she likes me, and says I am a good worker. A good worker?
I know she drinks too much red wine upstairs and that she makes expensive phone calls to her Psychic friend. That witch tells her that soon she'll meet a tall, handsome man and she won't be lonely or confused anymore. That love really is a miracle, and that her personal one is just waiting in the wings. The dollars go tick-tick-tick.
She's a fool because she allows herself to dream and to hope.
(He thinks I am unfair. I think he's unfair. He says I'm selfish. I say the same thing about him)
I stopped and watched the fox disappear down the soft slope leaning towards Alexanderplatz. I suddenly ached to be in a forest, and to see her there, threading confidently over roots that beckon for a human stumble. But not a fox one. I dreamed, for a short moment, of those dense pine tree fairytale forests that I think could only exist in Scandinavia. Where distant snow-covered mountains poke star-hung skies, and elves flow-dance on misty meadows.
The sum of the problems is always constant.
The second image and the beginning of your post completely reminds me of I Am Legend. That was my immediate reaction.
ReplyDeleteYour words are lovely, as always Kim.
ReplyDeleteYou have a way with making me feel something when I read your work. This had a melancholy tone to me, or maybe it's my mood. Either way, I enjoyed it.
ReplyDeleteKim, you write in such an amazing way!
ReplyDeleteLOVE!
LIAR.
ReplyDeleteyou aren't shit with words. lately or even ever.
you just think you're shit with words. i do it too. it's not true.
(actually i just re-read my recent posts and cringed at how badly they were written. sometimes how you feel about your writing is more how you feel about yourself at the moment. the writing does not change but how i feel about it does. weird. lesson here? write and publish and do not look back. i guess.)
these days i am filled with both a wordless horror and too many words that i have to parce through to find the ones appropriate for blogger. times like these i wish my blog was walking the line of fiction a bit closer. oh well.
there are words in there. FIND THEM. and if you can't, write shit until you can. that's what blogs are for. my blog is full of shitty posts. every day is an act of courage to not delete them. or it's all shit, but i haven't deleted the whole thing. it's better this way.
also? i think maybe FOUR of my posts since August have come with ease.
as you said, time is not linear and the good writing will come back around. write in the meantime, please? your writing, however easily or not it comes, keeps me going. maybe you think i am joking but i am absolutely not. now all i can think of are 100 cliches of how to describe your writing which i will not put down here because cliches suck, but you get the idea.
general summation: YOU ARE A LIAR and SHITTY WRITING IS INDICATIVE OF NOTHING and WRITING IS NEVER EASY OR ELSE EVERYONE WOULD BE GOOD AT IT and WRITE SOMETHING, ALL RIGHT?
xx x