Tuesday, January 28, 2014

A Few More Seconds of Fiction

I’m listening to a radio show about censored books. The olden days are gone, mostly, here anyways, so celebrate!

I, however, would like to be able to censor myself. Like last night with Edam. They bother me but Why oh why cannot I let the cigarettes go?  The smoke it does get in my eyes yet when it clears there is sadness in hers. Her eyes that will no longer look at me. That is the bite. That’s when I realize: life does go on but it has no obligation to take you along with it.

And so Edam floats on, giving her sparkle to others. I am left here on the wet and slippery bank of my excuses to watch.

The Last Fight You’ll Ever Have With Her Never Declares Itself Til After

We, us Wrong Doers, us Nitpickers and Fight Pickers, we think we have an unlimited cache of fights. And so we pick them haphazardly, on whims. We choose them. Isn’t this why it is said one can “pick a fight”? We choose them from the dizzying array of options, a whole lifetime of Irritating Things.

“She’ll stay,” we are not even aware of believing but of course we do. Believe it. If we doubted it, questioned her commitment to this less than perfect union even but especially in the hot second of our angriest adrenaline, we would never fight with her.

Instead we would charm, and woo, and deliver cookies we made ourselves to her workplace. We would let things go we would be bigger men we would laugh at our differences.

The last fight you had with her. What was it about?


  1. The last fight with my husband was about him forgetting to ask the solicitor who came to the door whether he had a permit, per instructions of our neighborhood watch group. You are wise to remind us that if we knew it would be the last fight, we wouldn't pick it. Ever since my husband was diagnosed with advanced kidney disease (only 2 months ago), I have rarely picked a fight. Everything seems trivial now. I am becoming a bigger person. :-)

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    2. I was really moved by this piece, and it stuck with me long after I read it.

      One of the writerly things that stuck with me was the way you used case in the piece. Rather than just thinking only about the meaning or message, I kept seeing the text in my mind, and I thought that was really interesting. So, I am now in a writers' workshop frame of mind, and I’m thinking about Jacques Derrida. Derrida is by far my favorite literary theorist, but I digress.

      I want to pose a question that Derrida raises about Differance vs Difference. Derrida asks, what is the difference between these two homophones? Is there a difference between the meaning of Differance and Difference, and how do you know the difference? It is an interesting question that relates, in part, to the difference between writing and speaking. In writing, you can communicate something that has a different meaning - or maybe a different impact - than what you communicate in speaking. So, my question is, What is the difference between
      "The Last Fight You’ll Ever Have With Her Never Declares Itself Til After" and The last fight you'll ever have with her never declares itself til after ? Maybe there is no intentional difference, but I did notice it.

      My apologies for the removed posts. I wanted to bring both comments into one, but ended up with three instead! :-) Thanks for writing, Carey …

  3. I don't know why I am just discovering your blog now...but I am so grateful to come across it. I will be a faithful reader of your words from this day forward.