I’M SO MAD
MY MOM JUST SAT ME DOWN LIKE “I found a picture of you on the internet of you in class” AND SHE’S ALL SERIOUS AND SO I’M LIKE WELL SHOW ME THE FUCKING PICTURE OH MY GOD THIS IS AN INVASION OF MY PRIVACY I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS
AND SHE PULLS UP THIS
…she rose at 4 or 5 every morning and went to a bare room at a nearby motel to work, alone with a stack of legal pads, a Bible, a dictionary, a thesaurus, and a bottle of sherry.
I usually get up at about 5:30, and I’m ready to have coffee by 6, usually with my husband. He goes off to his work around 6:30, and I go off to mine. I keep a hotel room in which I do my work—a tiny, mean room with just a bed, and sometimes, if I can find it, a face basin. I keep a dictionary, a Bible, a deck of cards and a bottle of sherry in the room. I try to get there around 7, and I work until 2 in the afternoon. If the work is going badly, I stay until 12:30. If it’s going well, I’ll stay as long as it’s going well. It’s lonely, and it’s marvelous. I edit while I’m working. When I come home at 2, I read over what I’ve written that day, and then try to put it out of my mind. I shower, prepare dinner, so that when my husband comes home, I’m not totally absorbed in my work. We have a semblance of a normal life. We have a drink together and have dinner. Maybe after dinner I’ll read to him what I’ve written that day. He doesn’t comment. I don’t invite comments from anyone but my editor, but hearing it aloud is good. Sometimes I hear the dissonance; then I try to straighten it out in the morning.
this is the best thing ever. when he knows everything about you - your naked body, naked soul - and still loves you more than anyone else.
I like the thought of someone trusting me with all of themselves.
i am in love with this picture