lizahl
Oh, hai, like the music, yes? Or like the architecture. There's your Classical, and then there's your CLASSIC. And ionic and doric and what's that third column? And your classy. And your classist. And your girls who wear glasses.
Between what you say and what you really feel. Between where you are now and where you were then. A muddy scrim that doesn't want to let you see. Maybe it protects you. Maybe it it protects something else. Hard to say with all that muck between here and there. What would it take to wash it all away?
Ugh. Really? Okay, okay. How about some hush puppies? The fried dough balls, yeah. Oh, or the horrible horrible shoes I wore as a kid, the Hush Puppies brand -- hideous, lumpy, made of some kind of pleathery substance, nothing but clod, clop, clod, even a kid like me knew they were hopeless
This makes me think of the movie The China syndrome, though I have ZERO memory of plot, characters, etc. Syndrome. What makes a syndrome? How many pieces constitute a syndrome? What duration? Oh damn I'm asking QUESTIONS again. Drome. Drone. Syn. Sin. Sin drone. Ooooh, look out for the below-the-radar trajectory of the SIN DRONE.
What if I weave you a story, one skein truth, one skein prevarication and wishful thinking? What if I weave it from grass and glass and the fingernail clippings of the best of us? The worst? What if I weave you something too good to be believed? Why do I so frequently use questions in free writing?
I thought I already wrote about this word. I've broken one word. Maybe it's just one word now, forever, like "harm" is The One Word I Get To Write About From Now On. Did I break oneword? I mean, if I only GET one word for the rest of time, this one's not bad. Easy to rhyme. Pleasant to say. Emotional resonance. Etcetera. Harm. Chicken Parm.
Harm has me stumped.
First, do no harm.
Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never harm me.
What a lie. I've felt a word slice home like a well-honed blade, aimed and hurled by one you could only call a warrior. Like a stone thrown. And if it makes a wound you can't quite see? How to heal that? How to set the deepest bone so broken?
Sometimes you're the other, and sometimes you're the otherer, the fish who doesn't even realize she's in water, the mother of all bother, an otter whose whole world is the crack crack cracking of a hard shell against a stone. Other other other otter and why bother, why dither?
Related, elated, sweet cousins, weird uncles, my relations, my ancestors, the roots and branches of the family tree, the relating all the relating is so exhausting but we keep at it at the table where we all clutch our forks like madmen and gnash our teeth like beasts, like beasts of a family, family creatures reaching for one another between bites
Oh fun this word this world funfunfun till your daddy takes your Tbird away, fun like sun like I am so done with the world’s insistence on glee and chin up and happy spirits — I find fun in the surly corners, fun in the funk
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writing since 2012 · 18 entries · 17 days shown up
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the words Liz reaches for
wordharmplanssugarfunsyndromepoemdonewordssometimesquestionsfamilynowweavedronesin