Brilliant - the boundaries remind themselves to us - as we tame death, making a pet of it - letting it in when it knocks, being ready with a snack, in case.
Butter, cream and cigarettes, a fairies' feast - the very best.
I loved the lines: I look, I see nothing. So nothing is still there. I've lived this moment so many times with my geriatric dog, Daisy. Her ears perk up at the spirits in the room.
I came in from the quiet garden and read this. It was like walking into a gale. I know I should be engaging with the content, but honestly am just in awe of the power of it.
Thank you. It's so nice of you to say. When you're the writer, you're sort of unaware of what you've done. I am flattered by what you said. Thank you again.
I loved the way you wrote the Octopus. That is a wonderful piece. I loev when you write about what you were going to write about and then that you are not going to write about that. It's great. And that ancient being right there where you live. And everywhere it has been before it came to rest with you.
Oh my heavens, thank you. This means a great deal. And I love it that you noticed and liked that form. I stole it from a short story that a great uncle of mine published in the 1940s or 1950s, so it felt like a little homage to him, slipping it into this essay. I wasn't sure if anyone had registered it.
Ohhh such a brilliant piece! I love how your dog validates that something unseen is going on. "Sometimes my dog stares into a corner of the living room and begins to growl at nothing I can see. I thought only cats saw the invisible but apparently Dave has this ability too." Here in Reno, I ran a Death Cafe before the Pandemic and am fascinated with the topic of death. For those who might be unfamiliar with the term, a Death Cafe is where a group of people get together once a month and talk about Death.
Yesterday someone knocked softly on my side door at 6am. I live pretty remotely— it would be weird for anyone to be back here, and no one around would knock at that hour. I would have thought maybe I imagined it but the dog went bonkers so there was my confirmation.
Of course no one was there. I put on my shoes, took the dog out, and hanging there on a branch of creosote, a gorgeous great horned owl feather. And at the very same time, the purple-est butterfly I’ve ever seen flew so close over my shoulder, I’m sure I heard its wings.
I don’t know what it all means, Abby, but the reaper is coming for us all, and who knows how he announces himself. He’s a tricky bastard. Try to stick around long enough for me to finally get to visit. I’ll call first. xo
But owls are wonderful birds, and as long as it isn't in your house, perfectly harmless, and lucky you to see a very purple butterfly. Now if an oamge man approached my house, I'd reach (if I had one) for my revolver.
My stepfather , Herman, lived until 94. Perhaps the most brilliant person in my life. He had a heart valve replacement in Weil Cornell NY Hospital. Age 82. Jewish and devout atheist. I was standing outside the gigantic elevator about to lower him to O.R. He still had both set of hearing aides . Roared “Jenn is there a God!??? “ “ Yes Herman and she’ll be with you all the way.” Abigail , I’m saving your post. Mix butter , cream and chocolate and stay awake with Dave final breath.
I think 1) critters or 2) dreams while napping? Great piece. You managed to scare the shit out of me. But death is nowhere near. Because, you’re too bright and vibrant for that.
Don't make it sound too attractive, I don't want to encourage an early visit.
Thank you.
Please don’t rush it. I’ve only recently discovered your work and want to hear more
Brilliant - the boundaries remind themselves to us - as we tame death, making a pet of it - letting it in when it knocks, being ready with a snack, in case.
Butter, cream and cigarettes, a fairies' feast - the very best.
hot fudge sundaes. Yes. A big help! and a nice smoke afterwards!
I loved the lines: I look, I see nothing. So nothing is still there. I've lived this moment so many times with my geriatric dog, Daisy. Her ears perk up at the spirits in the room.
I came in from the quiet garden and read this. It was like walking into a gale. I know I should be engaging with the content, but honestly am just in awe of the power of it.
Thank you. It's so nice of you to say. When you're the writer, you're sort of unaware of what you've done. I am flattered by what you said. Thank you again.
I loved the way you wrote the Octopus. That is a wonderful piece. I loev when you write about what you were going to write about and then that you are not going to write about that. It's great. And that ancient being right there where you live. And everywhere it has been before it came to rest with you.
Oh my heavens, thank you. This means a great deal. And I love it that you noticed and liked that form. I stole it from a short story that a great uncle of mine published in the 1940s or 1950s, so it felt like a little homage to him, slipping it into this essay. I wasn't sure if anyone had registered it.
Here's to you, David, the butter and the cream bedazzling us and your visitor for many a year...
Oh dear. Perhaps you could ask the visitor to reschedule? Maybe check in again next summer to see if it’s more convenient?
hhahahahahaha,
yeah.
I get it, at my age of 88 we are all waiting for Godot. It’s the human condition…
Once again, you’ve made my spine tingle, Abigail. And that closing sentence!
Thank you, Wendy.
I hope the grim reaper leaves you well alone. We need you here!
Ohhh such a brilliant piece! I love how your dog validates that something unseen is going on. "Sometimes my dog stares into a corner of the living room and begins to growl at nothing I can see. I thought only cats saw the invisible but apparently Dave has this ability too." Here in Reno, I ran a Death Cafe before the Pandemic and am fascinated with the topic of death. For those who might be unfamiliar with the term, a Death Cafe is where a group of people get together once a month and talk about Death.
Oh! This.
If you ever need him, I'll give you his name and #. Local guy. Great. He let him go into the woodsy area by the house, which was fine.
oh good. safe and sound, the two of you.
Yesterday someone knocked softly on my side door at 6am. I live pretty remotely— it would be weird for anyone to be back here, and no one around would knock at that hour. I would have thought maybe I imagined it but the dog went bonkers so there was my confirmation.
Of course no one was there. I put on my shoes, took the dog out, and hanging there on a branch of creosote, a gorgeous great horned owl feather. And at the very same time, the purple-est butterfly I’ve ever seen flew so close over my shoulder, I’m sure I heard its wings.
I don’t know what it all means, Abby, but the reaper is coming for us all, and who knows how he announces himself. He’s a tricky bastard. Try to stick around long enough for me to finally get to visit. I’ll call first. xo
But owls are wonderful birds, and as long as it isn't in your house, perfectly harmless, and lucky you to see a very purple butterfly. Now if an oamge man approached my house, I'd reach (if I had one) for my revolver.
I'll definitely stick around for a visit!
I went to one of the first Death Cafes here years ago. Loved every minute of it.
My stepfather , Herman, lived until 94. Perhaps the most brilliant person in my life. He had a heart valve replacement in Weil Cornell NY Hospital. Age 82. Jewish and devout atheist. I was standing outside the gigantic elevator about to lower him to O.R. He still had both set of hearing aides . Roared “Jenn is there a God!??? “ “ Yes Herman and she’ll be with you all the way.” Abigail , I’m saving your post. Mix butter , cream and chocolate and stay awake with Dave final breath.
Thank you. What a wonderful man. And he didn't corrrect when you said she'd be with you all the way.
Herman knew I was going to be his eulogist !
Then he must have died happy.
I think 1) critters or 2) dreams while napping? Great piece. You managed to scare the shit out of me. But death is nowhere near. Because, you’re too bright and vibrant for that.
Thank you. Thank you.