Wednesday, January 13, 2010

open letter

this is not a post because there is no space, time, or quiet.

on sunday, after i get into my house, have showered and made tea, and cleaned and done laundry and read emails and made my bed... i'm going to try and write something decent. anything i attempt right now will be unsatisfactory. this makes me sad because i am a bit pent-up and i feel like i have much i want to say. only i have no words. words are scared of noise and movement. they only peek out and show themselves when things are calm and slow and you have a room of your own in which to sit. so. until then dear lovely eyes, bear with the old man.

bests and bests
q

3 comments:

Capone: said...

it's in the back pocket of those pants you wore that one day walking through the streets of wadi, or was it venice? or did you leave it on the night stand of that place.......

i remember...

Anonymous said...

This makes me want to write again. I haven't felt that way in a very long time.
So,
Thank you.

Anonymous said...

You write some of the most beautiful things I have ever read. If only you had novels or journals available for me to store in my library; I would sit and read them for hours. Thank you for writing, even when writing is a little hard for you right now. I just can't get enough of your insight. It's like I feel, understand, and share what you write.