I love this. I read Horse and went to pieces. I thought I wasn't going to read Cora, but I was reading, and it's like being on a bike with no breaks. I was saying, no no no. And then I came to: "I’m happier than I used to be, but you really can’t know something like that." Yes yes yes!
No brakes! Love that. So happy you have hopped on. You know, both of those pieces were written with Richard during our morning writes when he brings coffee to where I'm working. His pieces are brilliant. I hope he will post some soon. xxL
love the echoes in the fragments, the jumps -- and this line: "It rubbed her the wrong way there was knowledge she would have to wait to have parceled out to her or wouldn’t get at all." Go Eve :)
Cora was a revelation. An intricate and reassuring intelligence of a smart-pluck about the okay-ness of not needing to always explain why we love. Thank you! Next time someone asks how-the-hell I fell in-love with an obviously, unsuitable creature, I can now feel fortified to refer to my new, adopted, inner-Cora, to confidently muse, "I don't know..."
Oh Laurie, there is so much to love here. Too much to mention! The grown woman, the horse-woman moving hand-in-hand with the innocent child. " I have forgotten how delicious walnuts taste'' makes me want to scream- this is why I love being alive.
Tip of the hat to you, Laurie. I’ve been reading a long time. You’d dissection of your friendship with Cora really grabbed my brain. I was thrown to the curb by my closest friend while I was very sick last summer and had just been unceremoniously dumped from my job by her as well. I’m still kind of reeling when I allow myself free rein to think about it. But your exploration of things Cora makes me think of J in a different light. Not a better in, or a worse one, but different, which is good. I was tiring of my own sloppy version.
Always enjoy your musings. Thank you! Merry Monday!!
The horse. oh yes! Memory holds on to illusion. (we're only human, after all). This one seems especially vibrant, tactile delivery from eye to cranium. Of course saturation, tint, and contrast of the recalled moment is affected with each replay. (editing is a genetic, practically DNA function of memory and literature.) And we do so love the play.
I love this. I read Horse and went to pieces. I thought I wasn't going to read Cora, but I was reading, and it's like being on a bike with no breaks. I was saying, no no no. And then I came to: "I’m happier than I used to be, but you really can’t know something like that." Yes yes yes!
No brakes! Love that. So happy you have hopped on. You know, both of those pieces were written with Richard during our morning writes when he brings coffee to where I'm working. His pieces are brilliant. I hope he will post some soon. xxL
love the echoes in the fragments, the jumps -- and this line: "It rubbed her the wrong way there was knowledge she would have to wait to have parceled out to her or wouldn’t get at all." Go Eve :)
Cora was a revelation. An intricate and reassuring intelligence of a smart-pluck about the okay-ness of not needing to always explain why we love. Thank you! Next time someone asks how-the-hell I fell in-love with an obviously, unsuitable creature, I can now feel fortified to refer to my new, adopted, inner-Cora, to confidently muse, "I don't know..."
I love this. And you. And I never know why. xxL
Oh Laurie, there is so much to love here. Too much to mention! The grown woman, the horse-woman moving hand-in-hand with the innocent child. " I have forgotten how delicious walnuts taste'' makes me want to scream- this is why I love being alive.
Tip of the hat to you, Laurie. I’ve been reading a long time. You’d dissection of your friendship with Cora really grabbed my brain. I was thrown to the curb by my closest friend while I was very sick last summer and had just been unceremoniously dumped from my job by her as well. I’m still kind of reeling when I allow myself free rein to think about it. But your exploration of things Cora makes me think of J in a different light. Not a better in, or a worse one, but different, which is good. I was tiring of my own sloppy version.
Always enjoy your musings. Thank you! Merry Monday!!
I'm always happy if writing offers people a wider range of motion. xxL
Mmm. What a great way of putting it! Sorry re: typos. Thank you, Laurie!
The horse. oh yes! Memory holds on to illusion. (we're only human, after all). This one seems especially vibrant, tactile delivery from eye to cranium. Of course saturation, tint, and contrast of the recalled moment is affected with each replay. (editing is a genetic, practically DNA function of memory and literature.) And we do so love the play.
a horse walked through the living room. The horse was black and white and was careful not to knock over anything.
This is a beautiful memory.
I endeavor to live my life this way.
Memory! I don’t think so. Ha!
Okay so maybe it wasn't your memory. The words may flow so that they mean something different to me.