Something notable about Charles – and I kinda try not to be too much of a cliché, but am – is that he gave his chapter’s good titles. So I will add an addition onto my first-thought-title (a rhyme and exhale, rather than a notion of judicious lust); I have done what I set out to do just now.
“I will start” (after nibbling on my lemon cake, and taking a gulp of some stinky milk) to say that I underwent a purge of grief recently. It is my job to find the right, or best words to convey what occurs, and is imagined. It took the form of wailing while reading poetry. It felt like someone reaching down my throat and pulling out a fish. Then cooking the fish, but not eating it, out of mercy.
I let go of a lot of pain I’d been holding onto for too long to know how long. I am re-adjusting to this release. However, I recognize how distraught I’ve been for the past long while. It is very sad to think of an animal in pain, unsure what to do for it. I don’t feel as hurt and heavy. Hopefully, I am less prone to probe myself, and others, and by doing so, hurt them.
How can you know? Such a wise thing to suggest of yourself, no?
Well, I don’t know for certain what tomorrow will take, but I told my quack, well, it has been good to read Junie B. Jones and now with my five-year-old brain and conception of the world and literature, let us begin Anna Karenina on the bus.
It’s just a metaphor (based on his experience convoluted with mine) which is not always the best absolute explanation of everything.
Brief note: I’m starting to learn a little more about grammar. I am making sure to pay attention to using the same tense in the same sentence. Although, there is some untraditional part of me which wants to use both present and past tense in the same sentence, as though something can be happening while something else has already happened – it would just be very bold for a self-published author to do. But that previous paragraph is an interesting example.
Words are like math. And commas and punctuation are like arithmetic. Been trying to make everything perfect until it all turns to mulch. Aries Full Moon. No Pizza. The city out. Living to love, loving to die. September is a strange month to extrapolate my life online.
Ben Bonkoske 