Sunday, September 16, 2007

Like icing

I read the other day that boredom is rage spread thin. I have been thinking about this, and for me it would be more accurate to say that boredom is passion spread thin. I think that rage spread thin is being depressed. For me boredom and depression are very separate things. For me anyway.

I read a few weeks ago that someone said their writing is like their wife. For me, writing is the cabana boy that brings me fun drinks. Not Nabokov's galley slaves either. Writing gives me great pleasure. I guess for some that would be a considered a wife. I am not clear on the concept of "wife" anyway, never have been, because mostly being called a wife by others is generally not such a creative thing, certainly not meant that way when, say, reduced to just that. Again, labels that work for others, don't for me. Labels that should open the world, and rarely do. Except by some.

And because I just saw a great PBS special first on writing, and then on musical child prodigies, I am going to go and do some writing. The clock rushes. Judith and Martha await, neither wives, but perhaps one will now be a former musical prodigy. Pretty sure Martha. The one with the updo, rather than the sharp as razor pageboy.... who's the town historian. Knows all and keeps it in neat severe packages, to be used later when needed or necessary.

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