Feather Bed of Words
This was a day for words. A luxurious, rare morning/early afternoon spent in the bed with words.
Reading from my daily devotional and Bible. (Can they be considered “daily” devotionals when I so often miss a day, and spend time like today reading a couple of days worth?) Chit-chatting with G-d over what I thought the readings meant, starting the conversation with an apology over not always making the daily daily.
Reading from 700 SUNDAYS by Billy Crystal, and arguing with myself whether I should keep reading it. My friend Bob Lee raved about the live performance, rating it among the top theatrical experiences of all time (although, admittedly, he did not see the original production of THE FROGS starring Thespis). Seems this material was meant to be performed more than read. I keep reading.
Reading another chapter from FLASH BANG. (Mark Steele did a cartwheel and then what! in a Presidential Inaugural performance? Get out of town!)
Reading several poems from THE TROUBLE WITH POETRY by Billy Collins, taking time to stare at the ceiling wondering about the poem that started by making me laugh, but then went off in that last paragraph to someplace else. Billy seems wont to do that in his work. I don’t read enough poetry, so reading this collection makes me feel good, especially knowing that Mr. Collins was our nation’s poet-laureate, and I didn’t even know that we had a poet laureate until Laura Dern popped up as one on THE WEST WING, making Toby nervous that she would say something anti-Bartlett at the State Dinner, which reminds me that Paula Price’s kid, Dylan, will be on the show this Sunday playing Toby’s son, although at age three probably not spouting any laureate level couplets, and here I am veering off to someplace else myself…
And not just reading, but spending time with words by writing. A bit from that novel that I take in bits because the whole is too overwhelming. A bit rewriting that spec that still isn’t quite right, but that woman from that show wants to look at tomorrow. A bit of a response to a film I watched two nights ago.
And back to dealing with words by reading, because this is lazy Saturday, and writing feels too much like work, even when done while still propped up in bed after being awake for hours. Laptops: technology’s gift for the busy man in pajamas.
So I read blog entries by friends, and I only have enough time in life to read blogs by friends; and then I read blogs by my friend’s friends, an activity that I was afraid reading the blogs of my friends would lead to. But this is lazy Saturday, and I can afford to spend time reading things that I do not have time to read.
And then, dag nab you Jeffrey Overstreet! I click on the link that takes me to a preview of – how could I be so stupid — SNAKES ON A PLANE. My deep feather bed of words has been soiled by video. The enchantment of prose and poetry has been shattered. I feel dirty.
Might just as well get up, take a shower, and put on real people’s clothes.
Just my thoughts,