“After all the things that happened, described and undescribed, if I told you I still loved the father would you understand it? How there was a wire of love running inside of me that I just could not find to pull? It was the side effect of being someone’s child, anyone’s child, whoever God tossed you to.”
—Lynda Barry’s CRUDDY, Chapter 24
“Birdseed” is turning into a tiny epic. As long as something makes Meg laugh, then I know I’m on the right track…
This morning she had to drive to Oberlin to consult a co-op about greening a house, so I went with her. In the bookstore, I read the first pages of Italo Calvino’s Six Memos For the New Millenium, his last lectures he wrote before he died, and Barry Hannah’s second novel, Ray. Both are authors I’ve set aside for studying. But where to begin?
I decided not to buy the bargains, and went into the coffee shop next door to read Cruddy. Then I spilt coffee all over. It might’ve been the caffeine, might’ve been the book.
On the way out of town, Meg and I talked about how we want to have a little house in a small college town, a highway trip away to a city with some culture.
One day. Happy weekend, everybody.