cotton anniversary (two years)
Wednesday 16 January 2008 | 3 cookies in the jar
Now I believe that events in nature are controlled by a much stricter and more closely binding law than we recognize today, when we speak of one event being the cause of another. We are like a child who judges a poem by the rhymes and knows nothing of the rhythmic pattern. Or we are like a juvenile learner at the piano, just relating one note to that which immediately precedes or follows. To an extent this may be very well when one is dealing with very simple and primitive compositions; but it will not do for an interpretation of a Bach fugue. (Muriel Rukeyser, quoting Einstein in an essay on poetic form)
Date: 17 Jan 06 1:21 am
To: mandarin
From: unnarrator
Subject: Oh my.Well, well, well. Okay. Shit. So, so, so this is where I type the following: So, like, I just spent the last three hours making out with the Brujo on my blue sofa, both of us occasionally getting ausgefreaked and having to stop, tears and chest pain on my part, great gentle delicacy on his, a lot of talk about terror and not wanting to hurt anyone but also wanting to touch and be touched.
Holy Mother of God. Angels and ministers of grace preserve us. Son of a bitch. I have absolutely nothing coherent to say at this point, he’s just left to go take Fiona for a walk and much-needed pee, poor dog probably has a kidney stone by now, and I’m going straight to bed and to sleep and I’m not going to think about any of this because I’m afraid if I think about it my head will explode.
At 9:52 am, the Brujo wrote:
Hey—we missed the Golden Globes. Maybe that’s what Weetzie was chortling about. I’m sure it was vastly entertaining, as all awards shows are.
As for “Trapped Woman, 88, Survives on Moisture” being your favorite letter from me, perennially and sempiternally, note how all that it involved on my part was the oh-so-po-mo (locofoco?) cutting and pasting available to us in this fractured modern world, combined with an eagle eye, a Virgoan, assiduous, thoroughgoing ideation of the clash of real and imagined, absurd and tragic, tender and ruthlessly blunt, like a Dolly Parton song first thing Tuesday morning, attached as soundtrack to the invitation to a sofa seminar on the eidos of snow, the daylight after an experience of hyperventilation, a consequence of which was the 1991 Honda (illegal, Plutonian, a dark shape moving in its whiteness along the abandoned streets of a town full of police at 1 am) seeming to itself float, etheric and astral, a rumbling demigod of decades past, bold in its destination home, incapable of generating heat in a morning subarctic, boreal, air snapped in two by lip-burning, finger-mortifying freeze.
Unlike this.
3 cookies in the jar
post your glowing encomium (or bitter philippic) »
Follow this heated, lively discussion through its very own feed; also, you can pingback or trackback from your own doubtlessly much more interesting site.
I can not never begin to match your prose and so I merely wonder aloud how many times in the past two years have I said aloud to various friends: I love [the Brujo’s legal moniker]. I love him. And then I describe his many virtues and talents and venerable characteristics. After which I praise Jesus for [the Brujo].
I think it has been many times I have done this. Two years of regular invocation. (And they were regularly gay there.)
Many, many congratulations and now discontinued Morsas to you.
And obviously, y’all are gorgeous.
I beg to differ on the gorgeous thing. It’s sheer vanity I know, but I can’t help it, I hate looking at pictures of myself. the Un is of course blazingly gorgeous. Me, I look like a Joad Family castoff or some sort of borderline psychotic scotch tape salesman.
I want to vote! You’re both beautiful, perhaps because you both look happy, and any faithless reader knows you make each other happy and that is damn felicitous. If I hadn’t been a fan of Brujo sense on the j-list I’d no doubt have given up on that years before and missed my introduction to the art of unnarration, and THAT would be very sad. I continue cheering for both of you.