Jonathan Carroll's Blog, page 58

CarrollBlog 3.15

Falling in love is like owning a dog

by Taylor Mali

First of all, it's a big responsibility,

especially in a city like New York.

So think long and hard before deciding on love.

On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:

when you're walking down the street late at night

and you have a leash on love

ain't no one going to mess with you.

Because crooks and muggers think love is unpredictable.

Who knows what love could do in its own defense?

On cold winter nights, love is...

CarrollBlog 3.13

For those who have asked I've got two new short stories appearing this spring. The first, called ELIZABETH THUG, will be in the spring issue of CONJUNCTIONS magazine due out in May some time. The second, LET THE PAST BEGIN, is in the big new anthology Neil Gaiman's editing called STORIES. He's got some terrific authors lined up so the book should be a treat. It's due from William Morrow in June.

CarrollBlog 3.12

Retriever

by Faith Shearin

My father, in middle age, falls in love with a dog.

He who kicked dogs in anger when I was a child,

who liked his comb always on the same shelf,

who drank martinis to make his mind quiet.

He who worked and worked—his shirts

wrapped in plastic, his heart ironed

like a collar. He who—like so many men—

loved his children but thought the money

he made for them was more important

than the rough tweed of his presence.

The love of my father's later years is

...

CarrollBlog 3.10

The wonderful writer Barry Hannah died last week of a heart attack. If you've not read his short stories, you're missing a great treat. He was loved by many, both as a writer and as a mensch. The good words about him are coming in from all over. One story is particularly telling, especially for those of you with artistic aspirations but who spend too much time procrastinating. In case you don't know, a 'galley' is what a publisher sends you to make final corrections in before your book is...

CarrollBlog 3.9

Gate C22

By Ellen Bass

At gate C22 in the Portland airport

a man in a broad-band leather hat kissed

a woman arriving from Orange County.

They kissed and kissed and kissed. Long after

the other passengers clicked the handles of their carry-ons

and wheeled briskly toward short-term parking,

the couple stood there, arms wrapped around each other

like he'd just staggered off the boat at Ellis Island,

like she'd been released at last from ICU, snapped

out of a coma, survived bone...

CarrollBlog 3.8

A small thing that makes me sad: years ago I bought a tattered postcard at the Vienna flea market for the equivalent of five cents. From the moment I saw it in an old shoebox, it was so captivating that it held me in its thrall a long time. Eventually during a move to a new apartment the postcard was lost and I never found it again. The photo on it was of beautiful young woman wearing a 1920's hairdo and clothes, sitting flanked on either side by two handsome men in wrinkled French Foreign...

CarrollBlog 3.7

One of life's small sad facts is there are people we no longer see who nevertheless gave us some of our best or most important experiences; but they don't know it and never will. That's because we didn't know it ourselves until much later, looking back. She thought about the summer in Greece almost thirty years before when they were together and flew from island to island on cheap rattle'y propeller planes whenever they felt like it. They stayed in ten dollar rooms with the toilet outside...

CarrollBlog 3.6

If You Knew

by Ellen Bass

What if you knew you'd be the last

to touch someone?

If you were taking tickets, for example,

at the theater, tearing them,

giving back the ragged stubs,

you might take care to touch that palm,

brush your fingertips

along the life line's crease.

When a man pulls his wheeled suitcase

too slowly through the airport, when

the car in front of me doesn't signal,

when the clerk at the pharmacy

won't say Thank you, I don't remember

they're going to die.

A...

CarrollBlog 3.5

"People don't want things to make sense, although they always say they do. Know why? Because if they did we'd all be in trouble. You drive too fast down the street because it feels good or because you're in a hurry. Now if things made sense, a cop would stop you every single time and give you a ticket. But what happens if a cop *does* stop you? You get angry and say that's not fair! Of course it's fair. It also makes sense. But if life made sense we'd either behave ourselves a hell of a lot b...

CarrollBlog 3.4

"Sprezzatura. This is an archaic Italian word for being able to do your craft without a lot of visible effort. It's a combination of elan and grace and class, sort of the opposite of loud grunts while you play tennis or a lot of whining and fuss when you help out a customer.

"Many people are unable to put their finger on it, but this is a magnetic trait for many of us. We want our lawyer, dentist and waiter to demonstrate sprezzatura, but of course, not particularly try to. This is one of...