literary pursuits

last night, i read the first 100 pages of The Catcher in the Rye again. i haven't read this book in years and years and years. i forgot how funny Holden Caufield is. HILARIOUS! the book actually made me laugh out loud as i sat in bed, curled up in my quilt, trying to wind down after a long and very draining day. it actually accomplished the very opposite. it woke me up. hahaha! and there i was, laughing like a crazy person at a book, and it dawned on me that, the first time i read this, it didn't at all strike me that Holden Caufield is insane. other people have told me the character is nuts, but i don't really pick that up from the story. at least not at this point 100 pages in. and i don't remember anything about how the book ends so i guess and just wait and see if he gets crazy all of a sudden. although... there are similarities actually between The Catcher in the Rye and The Bell Jar... the main character's distraction and obsession... distracted obsession. getting derailed by small appearances in the world and turns of phrase and the way someone moves... they get locked up by small things. thwarted. it's like The Bell Jar for dudes. hahahaha! because i don't think The Bell Jar is all that crazy either even though it is the story of a young woman's decent in to madness. the description of the narrator, how she perceives things, don't seen crazy to me. they seem sensitive. a deep sensitivity that is easily harmed by the world... prone to feeling "outside" or Other. soft-hearted and sharp-minded can be a painful combination. it leads to a lot of confusion and agony. but i don't think that it spells crazy. there's still 100+ pages to go though so maybe my opinion will change. i thought it'd be good to re-read it since Mr. Salinger died recently... a way to pay my respects. and also, temper the information i've been letting in to my brain since the start of the year. i've been very focused on female writers and i thought it'd be a good idea to get some men in the bunch. J.D. Salinger seemed a perfect fit.

slowly, slowly

i am late on The Jog because i've been scrambling around in my poems this morning. always playing, rearranging, finding. poems are strange. sometimes i love them, sometimes i hate them, sometimes they embarrass the hell out of me.

anyway, i have no clue what number draft this is or if this poem is even done, but i thought i'd give it a little breathing room. sometimes the work gets better once i decide to stop hiding it.



daily, daily

for Jared who goes on loving me even though i'm crazy





against a white wall without
portraits, all my hairs
in their proper place.

quiet as a candle
and ink stains on everything- i feign,
burned down to a stump-

i say 'please'.
i try
to keep my hair in place.

a thread
decided to dangle,
tickled

my red rims.
a lost lash
behind the lid.

fingernails in the paint,
hair in the baseboards.
and i've tried so hard to keep things clean.


(pretty girl, pretty girl, you are a strange water.
dark as carbon. your ships gone sour.
your hair is a wreck.)


the grapes fell.
turned to wasps.
i go dry of excuse.



he kissed my hands.
he tucked me in.

meekest.

mildest.

a cup of grass and butter.


he let my hair down.
he took the pins out.

today...

i am wearing a grey and black striped sweater. big fat stripes. 6 grey and 7 black. charcoal grey to be exact. they almost disappear. it is almost a black sweater. that's why it is my favorite. the elusive grey delineations. and i am drinking hot chocolate, reading a gorgeous bit of writing a friend of mine emailed me. gorgeous. but that cat has to stay in its bag a bit longer. poor kitten. and i am working with elsie again today. she asked for a red cape this time but, as i work, she says 'no. darker. no! darker!" and i have to remind myself she's just a little girl and doesn't have the same vocabulary i do. i practice patience when i practice drawing her. all this work and crazy listening in preparation for a single oil painting... and no clue of when it'll finally be time for it either. this is what it is to love something.