Monday, June 11, 2012

([{.?!...,"' ;-:}]) Punctuation

It is the design of the paragraph/the column/the novel. It is the discussion between reader and writer about unraveling the substance or lack thereof of the piece. It is the composition of the subject matter for the photographer/the painter. It is the brackets by which we live, isn't it?

I have given much thought to how my day is punctuated; how my life is patterned to unravel each day. My punctuation is, unfortunately, haphazard and detracting from the merit of my subject (my life). I realize that I am high on the Hayakawa's ladder of abstractions, and that writing is much better on levels 1 and 2.

So, let me go there: My first question mark of the day is what to eat and promptly answered by a ham and banana toasted sandwich and coffee. The second is why I am sitting at my mother's table missing a father to laugh and dance at my wedding, a mother to hold my hand, and a friend to tell me a story. The first period of the day is breakfast --then walking with my best friend, Estee. The next, a semi-colon, is to ask someone to go to have lunch, a bogo free hamburger.

Note to self: I have not been exceptionally hungry biologically and have even felt repulsed by clocking my time with food. My eating is causing me distress because I am fueling a monster that I cannot catch. I want to catch the greased pig of negativity racing through the mud. But my hands slip sending me to the outer brackets of my day's inner punctuation: the one or two tears I let go every few days, the distaste of my reflection, the absence of someone to touch, and the deep hunger to fill my days better.


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