Saturday, 24 November 2007

mr foer, j safran

I am listening to christmas music and reading everything is illuminated and thinking on jonathan safran foer, the person, the man that he is...the father that is he is [just looked at wiki article, he has a son] is a book to be brokenhearted makes me think so much more than i have been doing because to think means that i have to think about everything and i dont think i can take grandfather...expectations...not wanting to think about ever having to see or hear him cry...the movie was a lot more positive...maybe a little heartbreaking at the end...but the book is infusing all seems realer than my life right now...i want to be safe again, really safe...being overfed at teatime and looking into deep dog eyes...feeling that weight on my knee...i want to have the sort of conversation that is bright sunshine and strawberry rasna...i want a new year on a terrace...i want the past...i want my dads past...i want what i know i cannot have...and never did. its just me and my nostalgic whitewash, forgetting things that i dont remember now buried in that blocked off part of me. this is not about some deep dark horrible secret. just little everyday things. unnoticed. a word here. a word there. words that made the world a little darker and crumbly. where is home? what is home?

1 comment:

Divya said...

i haven't gone back to the book btw... i know wat you mean here, i say you shud find a job somewhere out of home, i fear for your sanity at home. get out. get going. become you again.