cidersipping & thereabouts.

fine then. it’s been long enough.

sometimes you start something – crocheting a blanket, changing the sheets, learning a language, writing a blog… – and you put it down for a while. a quarter of a blanket rests in a canvas bag, a loop of yarn around a metal hook waiting for the next twisted knot. a clean bottom sheet because you must sleep somewhere, but pillowcases holding invisible cheek marks & dried-since spittle spots. a plethora of exercised verbs in the stack-like narrows of the brain, but feebleness in the shoe store explaining it’s the width not the length that’s wrong.

and, as for the writing. well, if anything can slip away, it’s the writing, of course. i’ll tell you about it briefly as it seems to me that the period of a day and a half in great britain has stepped into my language zone and taken over my rhythm a bit. if you know the sound of my voice, you’ll hear that this is my version of what i sound like if i’m british, which, loves, i am not.

anyway, never mind, afterall, what’s gotten me out of it.

let me tell you what’s gotten me back in.

riding alone on long-distance trains.

that’s all for now. i’m going to pillage in the freezer whose compartments at first glance i could not register a way to open.
wish me luck in grey cambridge.

[the birds are tweeting].


About scribblelip

walking down the road with a book of conjugations in my hand.
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2 Responses to cidersipping & thereabouts.

  1. Kristen King says:

    Something about the idea of riding alone on a long-distance train strikes me as viscerally appealing.

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