Tuesday, November 13, 2007

and Wednesday

reached 16,014 mark. But I admit, I wrote one paragraph twice, as I am not sure which way is better.

I feel weird. Different family issues weigh on me tonight, not about those I live with.
And I wrote the dying scene in the story. The most upsetting one (the one that rips the life of the main character apart), and yet it contains my favorite line of the story. Like the flower it contains, distilled down to its essence, its scent, it distills to being the whole of the story. The meaning of it. But we don't come close to breathing it in, capturing, smelling, knowing it, until much later in the story.

I find the scene to be whimsical and sad. One moment I think I am being too high and twinkling, saying words and ideas to amuse the child within me, both too tender and too glittery, to be palatable to those not accustomed to consuming sugared hearts tucked inside candy flowers. But then I find all my gossamer wings are not enough for such a heavy heart to fly, laden as it is with loss and sadness.
And the mix in the scene leaves me feeling strange. Reflective, uncertain, hopefull, sad.

It is a wonderful dream, a beautiful dream, but our comrades will fall along the way. And nothing will return the loss of them to us. But we go on, amazed by the sheer beauty of light, the dazzling wonder, as we sear with joy and pain. Each one of us, a seam ripped of us, of a thread that can't be found, yet everywhere other gifts abound.

the laughter and the bleeding knee

and I think of that dream I had once, years ago, in the tones of a faded photograph, going through the door of an unknown house, entering the living room, which is filled with people. They aren't solid but not truly ghosts either, rather a mix of memories and of those which are yet to be. I stand there in the middle and then dance with them, the young and the old, the women and the men, bodies weaving in and out of others, interwoven circles. Part of me was scared the way I always am with strangers, but I also felt this joy, in being with them, being part of them, as I danced with the past and the future.
And there seemed to be this joy they too had with me, somehow connected, familiar, somehow a family, across time.

come. come dance with me across time.

added, Wednesday morning

Come. Come, dance with me across time
your family and mine
in never ending line
interwoven, apart and entwine
over and under, the moving vine
dancing together
across time

D.A.N.C.E -parts of the song by Justice
"Do the DANCE
the way you move is a mystery
Do the DANCE
you're always there for music and me
Do the DANCE ( do the dance)....

Under the spotlights
neither black nor white
it doesn't matter
Do the DANCE (do the dance)
as strong as you might
working day and night
whatever happens
Do the DANCE ( do the dance)..."

whatever happens- Do the DANCE (do the dance)

by the bye,
reached 18,091 words today


Absolute Vanilla (and Atyllah) said...

Your words are quite, quite beautiful, Taffiny. It strikes me that you are creating something rather wonderful and lyrical in your 16000+ words - something that is filled with the essence of life.

Taffiny said...


Thank you. I greatly appreciate your coming by, and your being quite wonderful.

I so wish your words were true, that I was creating something wonderful and lyrical, but at present I am not. But I do hope someday...., someday, I can figure out how to write it, in such a way that it can be. Because while I greatly doubt my abilities at telling it, I don't deny, that I do rather believe in the story itself.

Vesper said...

Each of your posts is poetry...
Just do the dance, Taffiny - everything else will fall into place. :-)

Taffiny said...

falling into place, I prefer over, falling through space

I am dancing, maybe not well, but still