Walking through the fire
mardi, le 22 septembre 2009
I’m looking for a book. A very specific book. A book I need to draw inspiration from to draw. I still toying with the idea that I need to make at least more than one etching. But standing between me and etching is this small problem of drawing. But if I can breathe without L’homme, I can teach myself to draw an adequate stick man.
In my search I come across a Charles Bukowski book I bought for L’homme in New York. I seldom bought only for me or only for us. I often bought for L’homme. I doubt whether he ever read it. It doesn’t have the characteristic breaks in the spine of a book read by L’homme. Nor does it have his obligatory red wine stained signature. ’What matters most is how well you walk through the fire’
I page through the book. I too like Hank’s poetry, maybe not as much as L’homme, who from experience can relate better. I like it in an amusing kind of a way. I come across the poem ’the icecream people’ with the opening line:
the lady has me temporarily off the bottle
and now the pecker stands up
I realise L’homme may be able to relate well to many of Hank’s experiences. L’homme would not be able to relate to his honesty though, for L’homme has no honesty to call his own.
As with Hank, L’homme, our sex life was never precarious because of my stomach, it was precarious because there was always a bottle on your pecker. Face it. Admit it. And take another bit of blame away from me and add it to the pile in the bottom of your wardrobe.
I think about the fire L’homme lit around me. I wonder how well I am walking through the fire. On some days I walk through the fire L’homme lit around me bravely, on some days weakly, but in a Chruchillian way, I mainly keep walking.
If you are going through hell, keep going
I wonder how well L’homme is walking through the fire. But I realise that he was the arsonist. He walks away from the fire he lit, comfortably on someone else’s feet.
(In the park where The Princess and I go for her daily walk, they did some controlled burning some time ago. I’m amazed at how quickly and how green the new reeds are coming through. Maybe the reeds needed the dead weight lifted in order to grow again. Maybe I need to lift the dead weight.)
Posted by Rispa Frances at 22:30