As a reminder: The truly ugly can be revered as hero.
By me. It’s better
not to forget. And by ugly I mean
on the inside. Which
is nevertheless just as subjective
as the use of the same word in reference to outward
appearance. So have I
gone anywhere in these first
lines? Thus far? Three pages into a new book and
five minutes of relearning how to make words with
something that isn’t held in my right hand. I could
have been doing laundry.
Making such a (re)discovery is depressing (duh!). Not
just the realization that I’m wasting my time, but
also or especially that moment when provided with
certain evidence which knocks 'my hero' (ergo also
ME) down a few notches.
What’s lost? Or what
was ever gained in the first place? How to adjust?
How do we adjust? How
do you adjust?
But anyway, who needs to be depressed? Let today
wash such things away.
Fast forward to the turn of
the page, rendering timelessness. To events nearly
eight years in one direction or the other (another).
To Lemon Zinger. To
V-8. To heating leftovers
for lunch at 2:00pm, now 3:20pm, still tasting
the delicious [adjective, adjective] shrimp....
