me and billy.
December 19, 2007 § 1 Comment
billy collins says that he only began writing good poetry when he realized he had nothing new to say.
my sentiments exactly, mr. collins.
i have to quote you to even say that i have nothing new to say. in fact, i have nothing to say at all, but i still want to put it down, all the nothing and the worn out and the simple.
like the fact that i don’t know what i’m doing with my life and i feel like that girl i heard about the other day who was playing musical chairs and was sitting down in the very last chair when her opponent pulled it out from under her and she fell splat on the linoleum.
and like the fact that i am reading Life Together by Dietrich Bonhoffer. and i want you to know what that means: that it means i want to live life with someone and multiple someones and i have no idea how so i’m reading a book written when my mom was a year old by a man who conspired to assassinate Hitler.
and then there’s the problem that i’m an introvert and as much as i want to live life with people, i also want to hole away in a hut a lot of the time. so i leave college graduation right when it’s over and think up excuses to slip out of parties and somehow end up in the bulk food section at the grocery store, buying organic dried mango. my favorite. and an excellent substitute for chit-chat, of which i have about 45 minutes tops stored up inside of me to pull out in emergencies. after that, either i tell my conversation partner a secret that i never meant to tell them and they act thrilled to know or i leave. sometimes, i do both, which is worse.
the best thing to do is catch me one on one, especially at barnes and noble, with a good magazine in front of us to look at when things get dull, or take me to see music so we can watch it and comment on it when we’re tired of talking about how our weeks have gone, or just walk with me by the river or up a mountain. that is enough.