The past week I've been reading stories the way binge eaters eat oreos. All exstatically and high, while I am accompanied by my good friends calories and fats.
These are the stories gists: a pediphile, a sad lonely mathmatician that overhears people saying sad things about him, a couple that their best friends stand them up at a dinner party and they almost break up because of it, a couple who decided to have a baby that was concieved in a brutal rape, two hospital orderlys that get high and kill baby rabbits, and a man who gets pushy on a 900 number.
Jesus, Someone guide me to the contemporary author who is writing with the same ball-grasping exstacy that John Muir felt for the wilderness. Or that Walt Whitman felt for man. Do you agree that the same total naked baring reality can be found here in this moment of silence in front of a canyon and a hummbing bird in the lavander? I know too well the feelings of loneliness, inward shrinking insecurity, and confusion. I would like to feel rooted.
Where do I Find those stories?
Ps. I love you. I love you because you have eyes, and are breathing, and are beating hearts.
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