A Partial Inventory of Gustave Flaubert’s Personal Effects
Macabre but fun!
What I’ve (re)learned in the last week.
As of 6:00 PM Wednesday, this was the photograph I was going to post for my 35th Daily Diversion.
Last week, a friend opened an eclectic little taco shop in the neighborhood behind ours. We missed the official opening because we were out-of-state attending a family wedding/staring at the Toronto skyline. We’re hardcore devotees, though, so we made up for it by walking 3 miles round trip just to eat a few heaven-stuffed tortillas. Afterwards, when we rounded the side of our building, instead of seeing an empty street…we saw a police cruiser and a wrecker hoisting up a strange car. Then, this pitiful sight:
Our parked Durango was just collateral damage in the broad daylight shenanigans of a random heroin addict, who decided to shoot up whilst careening down the street in a too-fast car with her baby strapped in the back seat. RHA is in the county lock-up, the unharmed baby is with his/her Grandma and our (only) vehicle is likely headed to the great scrap pile in the sky. It was hit with enough force to move it 4 feet forward and 2 feet to the side from where my husband left it last night.
Until the insurance adjusters have come and gone-for good or ill-this is how you will find me.
My writer’s brain requires a lot of different stimuli to keep on churning fast enough to function. A slowed down thought process is detrimental to my creativity. If you jumped out on the obvious limb and guessed that I probably have a hard time meditating, you were correct. Although I relish being alone, I do not handle quiet well. I need noise: a slightly too-loud television, a wide-faced Labrador crunching on a bone, a cat scratching on a door frame, low but audible music (The Clash or Patti Smith) pulsing from my laptop, discordantly lovely street noise breaking in through a few open windows, dogs racing and barking down the halls. Sirens. Car alarms. Screaming, skittering children. The sound of my bare feet beating against a table leg. A bus breaking to a stop. I could write with a baby squawking in my face. Noise. It’s beautiful. Continue reading
“It seems to me it cannot be wrong to read good poetry an entire morning if you happen to be particularly receptive in that respect, because when you are poetically receptive you see so much of life behind the words.”-Wanda Gág
Edward Gorey* talking about his influences.
*I’m a huge Edward Gorey fangirl.