Editor's Note: Kittens, Unicorns, Rainbows, Etc.
If you're looking for any of those items or related items such as soft-focus lighting, International Coffees, Cathy cartoons, or Precious Moments figurines, clearly, you're lost.
"What are you on about?" you ask? Well, some of you have said that my stories are too depressing, that they're a drag to read. I feel you on that. They're not warm and fuzzy. But I don't find warm and fuzzy all that interesting. And as it happens, I seem to have an endless supply of stories that are somewhat macabre and/or unpleasant. I thank my small-town upbringing for that.
Fucked-up things happen everywhere, I know. City people are immune to much of the tragedy they read about or see because it doesn't affect them directly. When something fucked up happens in a small town, however, the gravity of the event is amplified because there's a much greater chance that you will be affected in some way. It might be your neighbor. It might be you. It might be your sister's friend's cousin's boyfriend. Whatever. The point is that suddenly you find yourself with information you wish you had never received. And what to do with that?
I am, in general, a happy, well-adjusted person, yet I find it so difficult to write happiness. Maybe that's something to consider, a challenge to take up in the future. In the meantime, I'll keep churning out these memories, telling these as-yet untold stories so that I can make better sense of people in general, and life in particular. When I'm through with that, I'll be sure to write you something about bunnies.
"What are you on about?" you ask? Well, some of you have said that my stories are too depressing, that they're a drag to read. I feel you on that. They're not warm and fuzzy. But I don't find warm and fuzzy all that interesting. And as it happens, I seem to have an endless supply of stories that are somewhat macabre and/or unpleasant. I thank my small-town upbringing for that.
Fucked-up things happen everywhere, I know. City people are immune to much of the tragedy they read about or see because it doesn't affect them directly. When something fucked up happens in a small town, however, the gravity of the event is amplified because there's a much greater chance that you will be affected in some way. It might be your neighbor. It might be you. It might be your sister's friend's cousin's boyfriend. Whatever. The point is that suddenly you find yourself with information you wish you had never received. And what to do with that?
I am, in general, a happy, well-adjusted person, yet I find it so difficult to write happiness. Maybe that's something to consider, a challenge to take up in the future. In the meantime, I'll keep churning out these memories, telling these as-yet untold stories so that I can make better sense of people in general, and life in particular. When I'm through with that, I'll be sure to write you something about bunnies.
posted by Iseult at 10:01 AM
2 Comments:
i love you and your writing.
so f'em them and their rainbows and puppies.
grab a bottle and let's gab some more!!
Hey, I actually tried to post a comment back a long time ago when I first read your note, but blogger was being a cranky bitch and told me to fuck right off.
Iseult, I really love your writing. I get lost in your blog sometimes, just scrolling and clicking away and wandering through your stories. I agree that there is something about growing up in small towns that leads to an appreciation for a more melancholy beauty, for the connectedness of things that is most frequently manifested through tragedy--or at least through discomfort.
You have an amazing voice and soul in your writing. There's a gravity to the situation, and you acknowledge that and treat it with reverence.
Mull on, sistah! I'm reading voraciously over here.
Post a Comment
<< Home