What I'm thinking about today is the onset of crone-dom and not in a jokey, silly sort of way, except that there are plenty of crones out there who will probably chuckle softly to themselves that I would deign to believe myself a crone at the tender age of fifty. I feel it approaching, though -- cronedom -- and I feel it as a lassitude and resignation, a comfortable giving-up and giving-in, a sardonic eye tilt and thinning lip, an exasperated descent into temporary insanity, a skill in holding ridiculous paradox, a desire to live and to be done with it, a quickening pulse, a pull between the legs, fullness drooping, a chopped off finger wag, abstraction made concrete.
Crone talk over tea (from left to right):
Watching a child seize, day after day after day after day for years on end imposes a sort of discipline. You can actually live like that.
I dare you, to do what I've done and feel any other way.
Barn's burnt down,
Now I can see the moon.
Red lips, black hair -- they disappeared, but I taste them both, dearie.
Love. Not chuckling. Cackling. With "early-onset crone-dom."
ReplyDelete"a desire to live and to be done with it," that's me!
ReplyDeleteI have a t-shirt with the image above on it!
ReplyDeleteLately I've been thinking of myself as a beach crone. We wear white instead of black. Take off our tops when we feel like it. Unbind our cellulite, and let our gray hair fly in the wind.
I tried to comfort myself with those lines after the barn did burn down, and among the ashes (my charred typewriter
ReplyDeletewith the French keyboard, the medallion from my saddle, the antique enameled iron stove melted like candy) I found
the edge of a letter from my grandmother, who has departed, to her sister, also departed; the fragment
says the moon was beautiful tonight.
Every time I read one of your posts, I am struck by what a gifted writer you are, and how much you say with so few, but deftly chosen, words. I hope you find the time, and space, to write a book.
ReplyDeleteThis is simply beautiful!
ReplyDeleteMy socks are blown. Over and over again. You're brilliant.
ReplyDeleteI love this post. I feel crone-dom approaching, too. When I don't resist it, it feels like freedom.
ReplyDeletecrones and their cronies - I love the conversation over tea - but they really should be having ale don't you think?
ReplyDeleteThere are advantages to cronedom -- a certain freedom -- even in the male equivalent, whatever that may be. (Fogey-dom?)
ReplyDeleteLOVE the picture!!
Ahh, the freedom to unloose one's tongue in any circumstance. Any. Love it!
ReplyDelete