The Time Traveler's Wife

I finished it, the book- very, very slowly.



I've long used this space and those related for unabated ranting and thrashing and I've long thought before entering the library "I'd really like to read The Prophet again which I remembered today and exited with two other Gabrins.



I went to the Housing Department and ran into a couple from the shelter: three kids, moved from another state and he was a veteran. "We just saw Miss Margaret," they said and I stood there trying to place Miss Margaret.



"She rode the bike," one or both reminded "the hat".



"Oh yes," I'm doing such a good job at forgetting all I'll need to remember for my next writing project. First one since 2006.



"What's she up to?" I asked.



"She found herself a job taking care of an old lady," they shared; Miss Margaret being at least 60 herself.



I'd always suggested Shirley draw Miss Margaret. Though not what one would call beautiful, with her sixty plus years, men's clothing and knit hat covered by her straw hat both of which she wore until the minute our Personal Responsiblity Counselors would yell "LIGHTS OUT". I don't know that Miss Margaret was ever drawn, a waste of a fabulous face. An artist who had gone to and left SCAD just short of graduation, Shirley's stuff was more sugar and spice and scripture. She had come to Charleston from a small town with few resources. - that's what I'm fixin' tah' write. And I hope I don't botch that task again.


I won't write it for here of course and not because of my long held practice of trying to protect a ghost from information, and protect myself from disappointment in the bargain. Not a great bargain.


As I'd walked my library picks out to the car, Khalid and the final Harry Potter seem entirely and more appropriate than a Christmas Carol, but paid-by-the-word-Dickens-. I always want to take a red editor's pen and start slicing through what he doesn't need. Sparks I actually took a red pen too, but even then he's just too awful to read.

So with my christian carols, maybe because of the book, or the picture, or the last post for this space I've been toiling at having decided I'm rather dangerous live here. Except for right now, nothing exploding in my life presently for which I was so angry at my family and a man named John who shares my last name. The John who doesn't share my last name, as I held The Prophet, The Storm and The Spirit, I thought about his line "Tell me about your now".


If I had alot would have been pre-explained, simplified everything later and been horribly embarrassing:


-"I see most everything in quadruple, they don't flash as they bright as they used to and those false three white images don't rotate between 12 and 3 o'clock all the time anymore..."
-"I'm relearning how to..."
-"I don't fall against walls much anymore, I can walk in a straight line almost all the time..."
-"All my syllables come out in the correct order almost all the time now"


I didn't because it had already been too awful and I didn't want him to know that; I never wanted him to know were I'd been or where I was presently, but then, then I had to.

That went well.

Not.



Did and does the brain injury teach me a lot?
Yes



Did homelessness and the in-coming of it, as a state, as an address teach me a lot?
Yes

Could I wind up there again?
Certainly



And now to write about all that, and how to write about it.



Someone certainly has a request in for this entry's title, I did but oh how I want to read it again, study her structure. I screw around with writing a great deal, heck I wrote an intro to Crash where the narration is from the perspctive of an alien, his/her/it's log of new brain-body/computer-interface. and a fun first page but I don't think it's structurally supportable.



Should anyone or everyone have been freely entertained here: Hi W.S., again- my apologies. Especially Robin. Not that I let myself think or saw it in myself at the time. I had a lot of rage and unfortunately he'd told me just how to hurt him back. trembling voice:


"Maren, I live in a small town," his voice trembled "those letters are all anyone can talk about". He was terrified.

I was too and as that seemed like some sort of mere amusement to him? A laughable matter? for he did just that. A disctraction from what was really important? A distraction that took me three years to recover from. Three years until I could see J. Ross's make, model, color and logo and not feel extreme fear, not have my heart racing in my throat.


(Had to switch terminials)

The self described ADD librite (regular library patron( yes I made it up - there simply aren't some words yet9 it's the nice thing about the language: we keep making them up (ie: truthiness))))....

So the female librite next to me asked if this blog's title is a book; then the air was dead between us. I was silence shocked at someone reading my monitor.

She continued "Because... The Time Traveler's Wife. I've read that. From Dean's List to Homeless, is that a book?"

"Not yet"

But maybe a good title.

Maybe not, I'd have to include a lot of territory.

Whatever it is, it will be adjacent tohttp://www.2karialfordwilliams.blogspot.com/, where my target audience/s have already been.

12.17.09 4:40pm est
edit post 12.17.09 5:19 pm est