Whenever I start to type I intend to write one of those beautiful essays that are about a mothers breath, wanting a stranger to touch our elbow, the effect of a sunny day on an old heroin habit, the pain of the pain of the pain, the lightness of our hearts after we have that one experience that makes us realize we were standing right in the place we were looking for the whole time.... but nothing comes out of me.... My words are always so clunky and even though I try, there just aren’t sweet ways to write about being cranky.
It doesn’t help that I woke up this morning with my sinus bones snot-glued to my brain bones, a rejection email waiting in my inbox, and a fat tax bill from the great State of CA (thanks 2007) in the daily mail. I only check my mail because I am hoping Sargent Sparkle will post something my way. I made the mistake of watching The Invisible War the other day so, every day that I don’t hear from her I am certain that she has fallen into an Army rape den in the middle of Afghanistan.
And then I looked around... maybe what I had been looking for was right in front of me the whole time!
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