Duorno
I dreamed last night of a man named Duorno. He was the sort of man who can enter a tragic situation and haplessly soothe you. He was tremendous--and I could not help but realize in the dream that his name contained the word "duo," that really there could be two physical men of this one.
He entered the stage just after a grandmother's suicide (mine? it was not clear). She had stabbed herself in a field of some kind. And Duorno came along and presented himself as someone who did not melt along with the general meltdown, someone who is oddly everything you need in a moment like that--a distraction, a stable presence. Someone to make you realize that the madness is not yours, and that you do not need to be a part of it at all.
Enter a childhood friend to the dream, a terrible date who would not get off a cell phone, a small Frenchman with curly hair, shake, and exeunt.
posted by TK @ 13:56
3 comments
3 Comments:
McBickle
Yes, I am still lurking around.
A few comments if it matters to you.
I like the personal addition to your writing. It opens you up to your reader.
I also hope that this is driven by the writer in you and not an editor as beckoned.
;)
Take Care
Michael
can i borrow him sometime?
What can I say? Me is the new election, at least in my head. Actually, I feel like this blog has always been a mix of the personal and the political, but as it is a public space, I leave it for all y'all to judge.
Lady Shaleena, Duorno (who I think is the person you'd like to borrow) is all yours. Go to sleep tonight and breathe him in. He will be large, but worthwhile and comforting.
Post a Comment
<< Home