Monday, March 19, 2007

I suppose if one has things one is terribly afraid of inside oneself and can manage to identify those things with another person, it makes a sort of sense to avoid that person. Probably not the best solution long-term, but might do in a pinch. Not something I can do, avoiding things that scare me tends to snowball into near total inability to function, I've had to learn to go at stuff like that head on for the most part, probably makes me a good target for projected fears, actually.

Managed to get outside with the dog a little, felt like I was being stabbed in the head, had to be done, did it. One more step back toward desired level of reliability.

Thinking about going to the Statue of Liberty with my grandma when I was little, how endless the stairs inside the body seemed, the rivets, the corrosion, the disappointing view from inside the head.


Anonymous said...

Isn't it a Ray Bradbury short story--the one about the train's engineer and the woman in the cottage who wave at each other daily for years--and a beautiful warm fantasy develops on each side which is then shattered by the reality of their finally meeting? If we can't enjoy the rust and corrosion, we should probably stay on the Circle Liner.

Anonymous said...

Your blog often speaks of being sad. I get that way, too. It's really odd what makes me sad. I got sad the other day at these:
1. a crumpled dixie cup in a parking lot
2. used, discarded lottery tickets (they always get me)
3. pets tied outside stores who are checking out every face, hoping...