saturday afternoon of a sharp edged week

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last week was punctured with moments that had a certain density to them, when i had to rush against time, against the stream, against the sun. and circles of rocks fell apart into piles that did not look like anything assembled by human hand. and things had to be brought together again, one word at a time, even the spaces carrying a certain weight. heaviness. meaning.

writing is a pleasant stream when it is free and when it can just develop at its own pace. but when it needs to be very precise and when the message is fragile and already expected to be flawed, then writing is painful and imperfect.
there is no way to say two things at once, there is no way to say precisely the exact thing meant and to hope that at the other end the recipient is going to understand things exactly the way they were... they were what... intended? there? true?
language is just a rough tool to work with at times. it makes possible to summon the entire world as we know it with just a simple set of letters arranged on a string, but on the other hand it can only play with the rules it is given, and it is a linear medium, one that has to rely on the attention and the memory of the writer and the reader too.
sorry for pointing out all the obvious stuff.

spoken language is richer at least. the tone of voice, the smell of the air, the light, a conversation in a shared space has a much richer meaning than a castrated, declawed email. or even a phone call. when language in spoken in a context that expects it to be a certain way, then it is a herculean task to pull back the planks bent into certain shapes, to open the blinds to somehow harmonize the angle of light coming into the conversation.
tough. tough. and also without a net. no preparation. just there. immediately there.

the cat smelled my elbow for a moment, then looked at me an a very concerned way. she fell asleep on my chest for about two hours. she forced me to allow her to heal me at least a little bit.
hope it all works out.

trying to calmly look at myself as if i were a spirit watching my body age at a pace that is very clear. today is a good day.
and there is a big difference between alone and lonely.

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This page contains a single entry by Witold published on September 19, 2009 12:50 PM.

Moment left. was the previous entry in this blog.

casual afternoon thoughts at 7:47am is the next entry in this blog.

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