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oh there are things, I'm musing... tasting. Beautiful things that I am too greedy to release into words, yet. Yet. I'll dance with them for you, watch.
<<<
I had a long conversation with Grandma Monday night. She's crafty, that one, enough that even memory loss somehow doesn't dull her at all, no, it sharpens instead. Clears away the baggage of particularity. She knew, of course, without any explicit remark from me... Tangential, sure. But she knew, probably within seconds! It struck me that actually announcing it, some minutes into the conversation, would be jarring- we were already talking about it.
(and see, I have this delusion of grandeur where I'm all unreadable, when I want to be... skimming platitudes with strangers and playing parts for friends... enough that ecstasies, in retrospect, seem the calculated catharses of a steam engine, which, chugging along. Vents.)
This is a sort of politeness. Being crafty enough to see beneath surfaces, yet tactful enough not to point them out- all the while carrying on a conversation that seems to naturally flow towards advice about the unstated... a conversation that would have been exactly the same had I told her outright.
The Old live in a future. Not, the. A future of best case scenarios(in the sense of not-being-dead) brought close to completion. Search for yourself there. No no don't obsess over it- but notice. Say hello. Come back and visit once in a while, in between orgies, you know, if you. Have time.
<<<
I had a long conversation with Grandma Monday night. She's crafty, that one, enough that even memory loss somehow doesn't dull her at all, no, it sharpens instead. Clears away the baggage of particularity. She knew, of course, without any explicit remark from me... Tangential, sure. But she knew, probably within seconds! It struck me that actually announcing it, some minutes into the conversation, would be jarring- we were already talking about it.
(and see, I have this delusion of grandeur where I'm all unreadable, when I want to be... skimming platitudes with strangers and playing parts for friends... enough that ecstasies, in retrospect, seem the calculated catharses of a steam engine, which, chugging along. Vents.)
This is a sort of politeness. Being crafty enough to see beneath surfaces, yet tactful enough not to point them out- all the while carrying on a conversation that seems to naturally flow towards advice about the unstated... a conversation that would have been exactly the same had I told her outright.
The Old live in a future. Not, the. A future of best case scenarios(in the sense of not-being-dead) brought close to completion. Search for yourself there. No no don't obsess over it- but notice. Say hello. Come back and visit once in a while, in between orgies, you know, if you. Have time.