The Weight

Aug. 26th, 2006 09:26 pm
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There must be a poem, somewhere, in this. Maybe it's the one I started the other day and couldn't finish. Today, ol' Hem left me staring through rifle sights down a mountain pass in Spain, and I think that made it worse.

My own fault, I guess. Bought some Hemingway books a few years ago and read three over the past two weeks. Who the hell majors in English and waits till they're 62 to read their first novel by Hemingway?

He makes you feel the weight of history, ol' Hem does. Brings you into the mountains, makes you sleep on the ground, makes you try to remember what it's like to love. But the weight, always the weight.

And it's all gotten mixed, in such a strange way, with other things lately. Hell, I can't begin to explain. Don't think I even want to. But it's damn hard to live with.

I guess the thing is, I used to handle it by writing. And now I don't want to. But it's damn hard to live with, you know, the weight...

LPK
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8.26.2006

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