Wednesday, July 17, 2002

Still thinking about that Hemingway quote...that all you need to do is write a one good, true sentence. the truest sentence you can. Still thinking of the sentence--having the same feeling as "word on the tip of the tongue"...There is a good, true sentence trying to bust out of my brain. I have faith it will come.

Thinking of Hemingway, looking out over Paris, and knowing these things. Was it the same way I feel when I pass by my field in the morning--just a field full of half-grown corn, scrubby windbreak on all sides--but the morning light fills it differently everyday, and even as I drive by, I feel like I can't look at it hard enough. I want to pull over, and get out of the car, and sit in the grass, and just watch it, all day. Watch the sun come up, watch the gold morning light change to to the whiteness of noon, watch the shadows morph into the afternoon, watch evening come. And listen--the locusts are screaming, now, and the crickets singing. And smell--remembering how the corn smells, how the weeds smell in the hot sun. If I had a day all to myself, that's what I'd do. And if I absorbed enough of the field, then maybe I could write a really good, true sentence about it, a sentence that would invite people into the field and know why spending a little time there is important.

Hemingway's Paris and a stupid corn field on West County Line Road in Allen County, Indiana. Now there's a leap of faith, and imagination.

Better to get up late and be wide awake than to get up early and be asleep all day. -- Anonymous

Given my proclivity to sleep late, this quote spoke to my very soul. I've spent a whole life feeling guilty because I hate getting up in the morning--and I'm not even much of a night owl. But sleeping late is relative--nowadays, it's 8 or 9, instead of noon. And I feel less guilty.

July and I would rather be at the beach. I hate working in July, and don't like it much in June or August either. So sometimes I go here: and daydream a minute. It's 94 at the beach today.

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