Every time I say "albuquerque" in my head I pronounce it like a huge handful of syllables. My return to Albuquerque has been like a return home. Wow. Isn't that a big stone to drop in a small sentence. But it feels like a return to home because all of my things are here, and my job is here, and my concentric circles of knowing the city are ever widening. As we flew into Albuquerque I recognized my tall buildings. The ones that are lit up green and purple, the empty ones, the ones that mark the border of downtown. Really the ones a couple of blocks from my house. "Wow! I thought as I flew over, that's where I live!" Then the Albuquerque air was incredibly clear and cold, and that was such a relief somehow. I opened my door, the one in my room to look at the stars and breathe the air. Then I closed it and went to sleep.
I've been looking at everything more closely for the last couple of days and I've found: a small secret red door that leads to the fireplace, a high flying bird of the sort that I was certain only lived in Oregon, and several small round holes tucked high into the stucco of our house that might be birds nests! New, new new!
When I was in middle school I wrote a Jane Austen type novel. It's very short, and not very good. I read half of it last night as I floated off to sleep. I would love to give you, the "reader" the gist of it:
"Society was one of his favorite things"
"The man never tired of pursuing friendships, or in this case was it romance?"
"Their faces became full of light when pronounced man and wife"
"Duke Elliot took a seat at the end of the room, much as a slug would, very slowly and with a painfully disinterested look."
"her beauty was as great as ever, and he was utterly lost from it's benefits by her continued indifference."
I am thinking that I will take this poor little book in like a half drowned bird and I will nurse it until it is absolutely chock full of hilarious and ridiculous metaphores! Then I will let it fly away and please everyone that reads it.
