…I work at pushing The Millennial on, like trying to roll a giant ball I made myself of clagged sand and water, or wet clay, that keeps cracking and threatening to split against the tiniest rootknot on the ground.

Other hazards may make themselves known

In an effort to mark some progress, I’m posting an extract of the current opening, placed here as a time capsule for future-me.:

They were familiar with one another, old friends. She, in a broad hat, one of those dresses only worn by those absolutely comfortable with their physical selves (a man’s rust-tinted belt, double-knotted, low on her hips, visible tailing from under the table), touching him. Lightly, lightest – while he moved the cup smoothly to his mouth and drank and licked chocolate powder and foam from the corner of his lip with instant discretion. Grey suit. Hair at his temples brushed back. And weren’t they now laughing, of course. Old joke; she’d said about his rescue dog, ribs, kick-haunted eyes, and now plump and a darling, but – a subtext. She’d come over later to pet its gleaming greyhound fur. Her nails were not bitten, nor had ever touched land dirt, bin bag, or greasy railing. He leaning back, broad, bold, saying about that trip they’d taken together. Or would take? Sketch book, liquid hatchets from Aida’s pen. The man coughed – Aida glancing away, slipping the book out of sight – but he hadn’t noticed. Aida at the counter by herself, had felt slight, ordering her chai, and picking at the air-holes on the lid. Then walking, alone, out of the café, a blur crossing the intersection, hopelessly in love again with the way others could manage to live.



Filed under consolations of writing, New Mexico, Planning, snippet, The Millenial, The Now, Theory

8 responses to “Meanwhile…

  1. I like this idea of writing a time capsule for yourself, to mark your progress. And I like the paragraph, too. The liquid hatchets, the man’s belt, their hands. . . . Very nice.

  2. Thanks Averil. My worry is that it’s still a little confusing for people – distinguishing the observer and the two observed. But the plan is to keep being reflective, to see how much progress I actually make with the WIP.

    Oh and wordpress is being so wriggly today, though I can hardly complain – it’s just so nice to have a free adjustable platform available.

  3. I adore the last sentence, the way it doesn’t go where I think it’s going.

    “clagged sand”- I don’t know what this is but I love the way it sounds.

    That sign is brilliant. Is it real??

    • Claggy is a Scots word, meaning something like sticky, thick – I think of old porridge lumped together.

      Yes, the sign is real – or at least, it exists! I took the picture just outside of Red River, New Mexico. I like to think the local council has a sense of humour rather than someone tampering with it to add the cow. We saw it a few more times in that area, so who knows?

  4. Deb

    I’ll be back to read more (dragging myself out to drop the kids at a school function), but in the meantime watch out for falling cows! That is so freaking funny!

  5. Deb

    I love coming to your blog. Sorry it’s taken me so long to get back. I’ve been a little remiss with my visits around the web lately, but I’m getting better again!

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