Instead of grading, tonight I listened to Damien Rice and read old LJ entries as the Uma dog snored at my feet. I came across this one - an excerpt from Evening - and it took my breath away, as it did eight years ago when I first read it.

Click through to the original entry for the breathtaking parts, or stay here for this, with which I also identify as much now as I did eight years ago:

"Later her life would be full of things, full of houses and children and trips to the sea and husbands and hats with brims and dogs catching sticks and tables to set and lists to cross off and she would have left singing behind and the stars would never look this way again, they would be further away but at odd unexpected moments something of the stars might strike her and it would be as if someone had branded her forehead with a hot iron. She could not name it, the thing hitting her for an instant, and would not recall what had once been in her head at another time with other stars, but she would have the sense that she'd lost something and not know what it was and not want to find out. She sensed it might be too great to bear."
khamsin: (eclipse)
19 year old E would be disappointed that 29 year old E is going to bed at 9:30 instead of staying up to watch the Leonids peak. Or maybe they don't peak until tomorrow night? And maybe I'll have energy enough to stay up? The latter is unlikely. I could find out about the former, but I'm too damned tired.

10 years ago, give or take, we drove out into the country in my Civic to watch the stars fall. I think we took hot chocolate - or maybe we just wished we did. I think we were too cold and tired to stick it out then as well, so maybe I shouldn't feel as bad. Besides, in terms of pure memory, few things will top lying on a blanket in the middle of a country road somewhere outside Poplar Grove that summer with Kevin and Sarah, watching the Perseids fall.

September 2021

S M T W T F S
   1234
567891011
121314 15161718
19202122232425
2627282930  

Syndicate

RSS Atom

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Jul. 16th, 2025 06:10 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios