I spent some time going back through old journals this week. I was looking for funniness in the past year, as it always floats just below all the water in my well. Humor, ladies, I have.
And it has been so striking to me. I have little interest in going back through the typing here, but the journals, while truly sporadic, have a wealth.. It is the difference between the most beautiful photograph of a chocolate cake, delectable in its shading and lighting work .. and the actual cake, that you are allowed to taste.
What is true about handwriting is that speed is changed, automatic editing occurs in the curving of the letters. A forced slow down. More thought. More consideration, a tangible process wherein words are actually weighed, in a rhythm with thought...
Not all that is immediately expressed is a true expression, and certainly not a clear expression. I know that from my experience of my own filterless mouth when it comes to hard times with the stranger and stranger J. When the immediacy is altered, when the threat of the 'share' is gone, the true has a greater potential to show itself. Do you think? At least, the potential is larger, I think.
Yah? There is a lot there.
Here is some of what I found delightful ...
I have a very hard time with the opaque nature of my own feelings.
Oh God. I love naps. I hate naps. Torture. Torture.
I double knot my own shoes.
..pears in their golden shapes. (IN their shapes? Is it something separate from its shape? )
- the fundamental unknowability of mothers.
(This one was in Pickle Me This., a great blog by Kerry Clare that I read when I find moments, and the post was good too... so go check it out...It is such a good and true thought.). So, it wasn't my funny, but I made note. And it is delightful in its weight.
Gently-baby bird- gently.
:) wmx