Small Cotton
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They say that women dream of danger to those they love and that men dream of danger to themselves.
Cormac McCarthy, The Road
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I ordered Deirdre's book today. I cain't hardly wait to get it.
Rebecca is right about her.
She can stone write. God bless her crooked little heart.
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Right now I just want to be home. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to do for anyone.
I crave stillness and silence and everything gleaming clean and the sun hard in the blue fall sky and the trees shuddering and flexing in the mad wind and the hard frost in my heart.
I got some bad weather in me.
*
I yet love, even in foul temper.
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Namaste.
Peace be upon you.
***
posted by tearful dishwasher at 4:22 PM
8 Comments:
I read The Road in four hours. Unusually beautiful book in spite of the utter desolation.
I'm speechless and scared. And you are gonna have to put up with two copies of it, one signed, my friend.
And that picture - Small Cotton, that's amazing.
You did another one, with a girl, might have been this boy's sister.
As soon as I saw that picture I copied it and used it to go to, to keep me on track for my goat girl project.
Which is a long way of saying that you are one inspirational sob, in so many ways.
Happy Birthday. Maybe I'll meet you when you turn 90 with all your grace and violence intact.
Deirdre-
Woot!
Yr sweet.
I am glad that girl is of some use to you. That small cotton boy has got his hooks into me in the same way and there is something afoot.
I can't wait for your book!
I stand amazed at you, always.
yrs-
Scott
would you mind if i quoted you on the sidebar of my blog ?
I'd be honored.
yrs-
tearful
Yeah. I know that kid, deep.
xo
it's up.
i, too read the Road in one day. alex loaned it to me. it shook me to the core. i dream of danger to myself. but i have always fashioned myself a kind of man who loves men. miss you at the dojo big time.
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