Tuesday, December 23, 2008


so I am still jealous of his way with words, and his heart which is so much more constant than mine. I read about his love and longing and it is completely free of bitterness. My insecurities betray me. I am a creature of jealousies and erratic passions. I spend much of my life wondering if I can be liked at all. He seems so ploddingly solid on the earth. One foot in front of the next, one story following another and I admire him for it. And I wonder how he can be so good to me when there are a crowd of people hanging on his every word.


Zen Quill said...

I'm really jealous of your way with words...if that makes you feel any better!

And on Avid's recommendations, I'm happily procrastinating and not writing my book because I am reading The Road/Cormac McCarthy. I'm really jealous of his writing too...I think I am just literarily jealous...period.

May you have a Merry Christmas, Krissy

Krissy Kneen said...

maybe literary jealousy is a writer thing. I love Cormac too. I read him to show me how writing can be. I am also a fan of two particular writers who are half my age and I read their work and wish I had been half as good when I was their age...