I tihnk I mentioned this earlier but for the refresher, In October I will be going to Seattle to meet my favorite author.
I should say a few things because this isn't exactly like driving or taking a train to see you favorite band. This is sitting on a bus or train for depending on which i happen to take is anywhere between 2-4 hours so that I can walk around a city i do not know (fun!) and then find myself in a bookstore sitting (from what i hear most likely dripping) and listening to a man read from a book that im going to purchase and have signed to myself so that i can sit on the bus coming back and have a very long conversation with the friends im dragging along while i really really want to tear into chapter one.
This is not any writer or storyteller im talking about though. I'm talking about the man that's written books which have carved themselves deeply into me. There are imprints of his stories in my head and hands and feet.
at one point the only way i could find to express my love for one particular woman was to steal one of his words because it replaced the word love for me as a pinnacle of emotion.
In a bookstore yesterday I bought a postcard that fascinated me. It's a photograph of two sheperds in Balou Lekh, Nepal. Backs to us, they're standing in an open meadow watching their small flock of sheep and herd dogs. It is a brilliantly sunny day. Their bodies cast long black shadows across the ground, as if they were figures on a sundial. In front of them miles in the distance is one of those astonishing panoramic views of the blue-gray Himalayas. The photo is so rich and exotic in both subject matter and locale that you don't know where to look first. When I got home I propped the card up next to the computer screen. Since then I find myself staring at it often and dreaming. An eye doctor once told me that if you work at the computer a lot, you should frequently look away, out the window if possible and focus on the natural world a while to give your eyes a rest from the electronic jitter. I used to do that, but now with this card, with an eye flick I'm in Balou Lekh.
When I was in Italy a couple of weeks ago, a magazine interviewer asked this question which I thought was interesting: A UFO lands in your backyard and the aliens knock on the door. They ask you to suggest one book they can read that best describes Mankind and the Human Condition. Which one would you suggest that gives beings from another planet a good idea of who we really are? I mentioned the first thing that came to mind and to this day I stick with the suggestion-- the children's book Goodnight Moon by Margaret Wise Brown. For those who don't know it, a little girl gets into bed at night. As she drifts off to sleep, she says goodnight to all of the things she loves and that make up her small world. It is a book about observation, love, and gratitude. When I am feeling optimistic, I think those are the qualities that make us special and will hopefully save us in the end.
If you had to choose, what would you rather drop-- something liquid, or something solid?
Explain your choice.
A man I know had been having a very good and satisfying affair with a woman for some time. As a sign of appreciation, he decided to invite her over for dinner at his apartment-- something he hadn't done before. He liked her very much and decided to do the whole thing right: candlelight, linen tablecloth and napkins, nice plates and glasses, etcetera. And of course cook something great. She arrived and they chatted while he put the finishing touches on the meal. But as they ate and time wore on, she became more and more withdrawn and cold. Finally it got so bad that he asked if anything was wrong.
She hesitated but finally pointed to one of the plates.
"Why did use plates? Why not just plastic or something?"
Taken aback, he answered "I wanted to make a nice meal for you. I thought I'd use my nice plates, a tablecloth, you know-- the good stuff."
"But that's all? That's the only reason?" She narrowed her eyes, as if not trusting what he'd said.
Thoroughly confused now, he said "Yes, that's all."
"You're not in love with me?"
He hesitated because he didn't want to hurt her feelings, but the whole evening was becoming so weird and mysterious that he thought he should just tell the truth."No, I like you very much but I'm not in love."
Her face lit up and she smiled from ear to ear. "Oh, thank God! As soon as I walked in here and saw these nice plates I thought Oh no, he's in love with me. Because you never use plates in a situation like this unless you're in love. I was so afraid I was going to have to say that I don't love you. But now everything's okay. Do you want to go to bed?"
Italian phrase of the day: "caccati in mano e prenditi a schiaffi" which roughly translates as "Take a shit in your hands and then hit yourself with it."
If you know who im talking about then im more than pleased to know that there is a piece of artwork whether it be a story or a painting or what have you, that's left an imprint.