Still life

 

Stilllife01.jpg picture by pemerytx

“Peaches, Pears & Plums” by Colleen Cox at Neptune Fine Arts

 

She was clearly disturbed.  She wrote hauntingly of pears, beautifully of plums, with just the right amount of ambiguity, only I’d been long immersed in the clarity of a single, un-shaded, one hundred watt bulb hanging as far away as it could from the outdated gloss of a white ceiling.  And so, I couldn’t understand it, what she wrote.

 

The not-understanding was upsetting, heartbreaking, pulling tears from me that I didn’t want to give.  The obtuseness of it blunted the surface of old conditioning, pushed through weakness, and revealed a self-imposed stigma of stupidity in its imagined, glaring challenge of my intelligence.  Yet a vague remembrance stirred within, in what she wrote.

 

Perhaps I used to write like that, or maybe I used to want to, or still want to.  I could feel some familiar thing in my recognition that the ambiguity was just right, but I couldn’t corner it for examination.  There was power in her command of the vast words available in our language, yet she made it seem like an easy, soft and natural justness:  the power, the brain-grooved pit; the sweet-easiness, the ripe and juicy peach meat that oozed from what she wrote.

 

I lay mentally down, distraught.  Knowing that I was aware of the succulence, but unable to get at it to express it, I was equally unable to enjoy even the whisper within the pears or the subliminal suggestion of the plums.  And I knew instantly, that’s what set her apart from me, her connection to the spiraling, drilling-down place where the pure essence of things pool, the place from which she writes.

 

Fini

 

CREDITS

 

Still life painting, “Peaches, Pears & Plums,” by Colleen Cox  http://www.neptunefineart.com/images/Cox_Peaches,-Pears-&-Plums.jpg, from Neptune Fine Art at http://www.neptunefineart.com/

 

 

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Click here for more on prompt “#141 – I knew instantly…” from other Sunday Scribblings participants.

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11 responses to “Still life

  1. “the ripe and juicy peach meat that oozed from what she wrote” I want to be able to come up with description like this. Wow! Yet another awe inspiring piece of work. BJ

  2. That connection, that getting to the “spiraling, drilled down place”, where we want to be, hoped to be, thought we might want to be.
    Miss A, you “get at it” as you write about the desire, the disappointment, the ambiguity. You “express it” so well.

  3. Hi BJ! Peach meat blog blather don’t pay, but cranking out stories as slick and well as you do pays! You know I’m glowing from that compliment you gave me here, but I betcha someone like you could easily have peach meat and pay!

    Thank you GT! Good to see you again!

    Hi present! What seems an irony may be illusory, but I’m taking your votes of getting and expressing and running with them :-D

  4. I knew this instantly: there is no separation between she and thee, both splendid cartographers, exquisite geologists. That ain’t just peach meat ooze, my sweet sister, that’s a bubblin crude: oil that is, black gold, Texas tea.

    Drink that, and drink deep.

  5. …reminds me of a dream I once had of being at a party listening to some fellow being witty and wise, and I awoke with jealousy that I couldn’t think of things like that myself. But, of course, I had!

  6. Like the fruit you mention, this post is a luscious, haunting balance of sweetness and yearning. Perfectly lovely. And now, I’m feeling a little woozy.

  7. Hi- I jaunted on over from Sun. Scribblings. I enjoyed this juicy piece of prose. Interesting that I came from another site where art was also an inspiration. (I’m an artist, so maybe I should use that as advice for writing ideas.) Liked this so much, I read it twice, enjoying the sounds of your words.

  8. You sure can lay down some mighty fine words, Paschal. Between you and BJ Roan, I’m mighty sick. Homesick that is. Who would leave Texas for Beverly? Hills, that is. Swimmin’ pools, movie stars. Pfft! Maybe some day I’ll go back to that locality, and have a heapin’ helpin’ of that sweet Texas tea. Until then, I’ll set a spell. Take my shoes off. And remember how they used to say, “Y’all come back now, y’hear?”

    What a cool riot, Bass!
    Say, I once read in a dream interpretation book that to dream you’re at a party suggests you need to get out more. Does the shoe fit?

    Thanks, Tumblewords!

    Hi anno! Yeah, I almost needed smelling salts when I realized what was going on with that artist over at your place :-)

    Aw, Ms. Mood, thank you for saying so, but really, let’s talk about you: I’m glad you skipped a rock atop Blogworld’s waters on your birthday :-)

    Welcome, GeL! Oh, yeah, I saw you over at anno’s place just awhile ago! Thanks for stopping by here, too, and for your compliment. I’m glad you enjoyed the sounds : )

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