Just got back from a run with a couple of familial pachyderms, and now need to wait my proper turn in the pecking order for the shower (whilst hoping there’s still some hot water left by then. They’re female. Draw your own conclusions…) So in the meantime, I obviate any need for feeling good about the run by eating a mince pie, listening to Mother Mother in preparation for tomorrow’s concert, and of course surfing the net.
You know you’ve had a good read when you close the book, put down the manuscript, hit “Home” or whatever, and go “hmm…” in a contemplative tone. The words – pored over for hours, days, or even longer, by their guardian, have been herded like so many cats until they made the form always imagined at the outset. They have hit home and made you think. That’s rarely a bad thing. Wandering along the back roads of blogsville, I came across the Raleigh Review. Turns out to be a literary and arts magazine, and nothing to do with bicycles at all.
On its pages, I came across a piece called “Gaia” by one J.M. McDermott: We hadn’t quite invented marriage, so we couldn’t quite divorce when he invented infidelity.
Made me think. (It happens sometimes, if I’m not careful enough.)
If you’re not in an emotionally delicate place right now, you might find it worthy of a few minutes too.
Once again: “Gaia” by J.M. McDermott at The Raleigh Review