novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- somebody shake us and would you like it if i explained everything to you? i know that is impossible, but i keep trying anyway because i am a storyteller. there are thousands of stories i want to tell you, but right now i can't separate a single one from the din with the small amount of time i have here, right now. and i keep writing shorts in my head, about a man with a giant nose who lives next to my ex and won't stop observing him, about a grandfather who begins keeping a diary but can only write down his granddaughter's thoughts, about becoming a dark wizard. about loss and heartbreak without the good things that come before loss, about never having them in the first place. i've been reading a lot of raymond carver again. i am at the circulation desk, checking overdue books in. the librarians to my left are discussing star trek fan fiction -- particularly between spock and kirk. every once in a while i'll pay attention to what they're saying and fade out again. there is a petite fillipino woman with her toddler on a blue nylon leash. he's cooing and straining to get back outside, but her eyes are on the wall behind me, on the "new releases" section. she asks to see paul auster. the toddler stretches his arms towards the open door, and my eyes follow his reach across the room. the sky has clouded over completely, as if we are caught on the floor of a snow globe. 1:13 pm - 06.10.06 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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