21 January 2005

Maiden run

"Do not wait to strike till the iron is hot; but make it hot by striking."
~ W.B. Yeats

Considering how long it's taken me to get here, you'd think things would be much more thought out. Not so. It's a Friday night: a screwdriver and an Over the Rhine bootleg show on the stereo. Snow covering most inanimate objects, and the moon and stars as witness to another hour's vigil on this God-hidden earth.

Karin is about to launch into "Drunkard's Prayer" ("sort of a little hymn," she says). I am ready to be split in two, crosswise.

"You're my water
You're my wine
You're my whiskey from time to time"


"Whether or not your lips move,
you speak to me."

Sitting on my floor in the dark with the music pouring over my head and into my ears like heavy, holy oil... I suddenly know that it's ok to be alone (to be the only one in this very moment experiencing this and understanding).

I doubt that this blog will turn into one woman's crazy-quilt confessional...but you never know.

And the story continues...


Victoria Lucas said...

Your writing is extremely relaxing, you know that?
It flows silky and cool like water.
Makes the mundane extraordinary.

Anonymous said...

Certain of us out here in the world are simply waiting, hoping, holding on like folded paper Tibetan prayers snapping in the cold north wind...We have all faith, all hope, all embroiled in a moment, stamped on a cloth, carried in our pockets, embroidered over our hearts, all in each thought we think of you and believe in you even more than you believe in yourself.
Our breath is caught collectively. You will be like gold flakes in an otherwise useless stream, like light cream foam pushed forward by a gentle, long, clean Hand, guiding this yet-unknown ship to sea. You are a miracle always happening.

jamin said...

I stumbled across your warm corner of the blogosphere while searching for Over the Rhine lyrics and I've spent the past hour or two reading other entries. You've opened up a whole world of lit blogs to me. Thank you.