imprecisegrief —> ineternalexile
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@ineternalexile
imprecisegrief —> ineternalexile
This now was how she would learn about the world, in sentences at meals; other people’s distillations amid her own vague pain, dumb with itself. This, for her, would be knowledge — a shifting to hear, an emptying of her arms, other people’s experiences walking through the bare rooms of her brain, looking for a place to sit.
Lorrie Moore, from Birds of America: Stories: “Terrific Mother”
must feel so good to be soil absorbing rain
there are corners of this website where the year is still 2013. and sometimes, on beautiful nights when the veil is thin, you can find them . if you know where to look
—Tarjei Vesaas, The Hills Reply
"I'm a nihilist," she said. "That's what I'm going to be."
— Joy Williams, from “Honored Guest,” Honored Guest: Stories (Alfred A. Knopf, 2004)
Thomas Zhuang: Street Series, NYC #182, 2013
"sweetheart" has got to be the best term of endearment of all time. YOU think MY heart is sweet??? that thing I've been carrying around like a rusty, barnacle-covered anchor my whole life???? you think it's sweet????? you can see and know my heart enough to think it's sweet????????
i know i don’t necessarily need to explain myself but i feel compelled to say that i like tarot in the same way i like dream interpretation and flipping coins for answers— it’s not going to tell you anything you don’t already know, it’s just an excuse to examine the patterns and symbols your brain builds and is drawn to
vader every time he came across 3po and r2 during the war probably
There are no stages to grief. It is a river
someone take me out to a field at dusk and release me
Nothing, yet. Nothing still.
something happen today that oog can't stop thinking about.
old man at river. oog don't know his name. not from oog tribe. passing through. sitting at edge. washing hand very slowly.
oog filling water jug. glance over. old man washing same hand for too long. not really washing. just... holding hand in water. staring at nothing.
oog almost walk away. almost. but something.
oog: "water cold today."
old man look up. eye far away. come back slowly.
old man: "...yes. cold."
quiet. water sound.
old man: "my mate used to hate cold water. would yell at river like river going to apologize. every morning. yelling at river."
oog: "...used to?"
old man look at oog. and oog see it. the thing behind the eye. the room that used to have someone in it.
old man: "she walk on. last warm season."
oog put jug down. sit.
old man: "forty winter together. you know what that is? forty winter is... you don't know where you end and they begin. forty winter is reaching for someone in sleep and your arm know exactly where they are without waking up. then one night your arm reach and..." he look at his hand in water. "nothing there. but arm still reach. every night. arm don't know she gone. arm still looking."
oog not breathing.
old man: "people say 'it get better.' and maybe. but nobody tell you about the arm. nobody tell you about muscle that memorized someone. body remember what brain trying to forget. and you stuck between the two. brain saying 'she gone.' arm saying 'she right here.' every night. every night."
oog don't know what to say. oog twenty two winter. oog don't have word for this. this too big for oog vocabulary. too deep for oog experience.
so oog just sit. in the cold water sound. next to old man whose arm still looking for someone in the dark.
after long time old man stand up. dry hand on hide.
old man: "you got someone boy?"
oog: "not yet."
old man look at oog. small smile. kind smile. the kind that cost something.
old man: "when you do. pay attention to where she sleep. where her shoulder is. where her breathing land on your neck. memorize it on purpose. because your arm going to memorize it anyway. might as well be there for it."
old man walk away. oog never see him again.
oog sitting at river. holding jug. water still cold. sun still out.
but something different now. something heavier in oog chest. not sad. just... aware. that love is not just the having. it the after. the arm that keep reaching. the body that won't forget what the brain already surrendered.
oog haven't even started yet. haven't even found the shoulder to memorize.
but when oog do. oog going to be there for it. every detail. on purpose.
because one day the river going to be cold and the arm going to reach and oog want to have something real to reach FOR. even if it only live in muscle by then.
love, oog
Via X
Hua Xi, from "Night Drive Through My Own Life"