Monday, August 29, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Everything I've done today could have been done by a bear. The long seasoned sleep. The lumbering out of bed. Tearing at a hard roll dipped in honey. And then sprawling lazily in the grass where the sun hit. I was going to take a bath but decided that would have been too much bear activity, so I showered. Or will in a bit. If I took a bath I think I would hunker down, expecting Emma Salmon to swim by so I could scoop her up.
Saw a lone deer at yesterday's sunset. It looked down the road with an expression as if waiting for something in particular. Antlers. That deer had a nice face. Like it would help you out in a jam if it could.
We are both going away. I had thought it was only me. I will now be paying more attention to what you will pack than to what I will.
Last night the wind was blowing fierce and temperatures were dropping fast. The blind knocked a glass item off the sill. I knew it would happen but left the glass item there anyway. The bedroom door was slamming open and shut. Fell asleep and woke with a scream while staring at a dark spot on the wall. When lightening flashed I saw the horizon on all four walls. Your silhouette on each. I knew then that I know exactly what it would feel like to stand before you again. With your nose moving as it does.
When I got up I noticed several complete outfits of clothes in piles on my floor. As if a group of men had dropped them and gone out into the storm naked.
If you think of something, do you stop to write it down.
LETTER 40 from LETTERS TO EMMA BOWLCUT, by Bill Callahan
Posted by P.M