The Jesus Years: An Epilogue
Treinta tercero: 33rd. Weird, because I swear on a stack of ... ok, that won't happen; but I never gave thought to how many posts it would take to present this novel in its entirety. Hmm.
An interesting journey it has been: mining for links, video, the spelling mistakes encountered along the path. The proper of the various Spanish.
When re-visiting the story, I once the more went over the point of it All - the What of dear Henry and his relationship with X - the just what it was that I was trying to tell:
The deconstruction of a failed romance through the contrasting backdrop of Ottawa and Spain - the differing mores of a community, the world;
How truly fleeting a close circle of friends can be.
But as much as it is what you say, it's how you say. Writing is sound, the bouncing ball followed along to whilst belting out the drunken karaoke - cadence, and whether or not the outside world is digging the same tune. There be the rub, and the troubling matter for someone so reliant upon the unconventional.
Back inside the rubber ball, peering out and rolling around the engineer's booth, I'm ok with things.
*
Many thanks to The Royal Oak 1, The Ouisi Bistro, The Fringe Café for allowances, inspiration - and, yes, annoyance.
Spain, Ottawa - enough said.
And thanks to 'little' you for listening to me ruminate on X to Y (whomever that may be).
As for the future of youmeandthegatepost, I shall continue to blog the innards of my writer's heart.
Other than my own material, I am exploring the idea of delving into a letter in my possession. It is a missive from my grandfather to his mother, sent in 1928 whilst he was in Burma.
I am still researching the matter, but it concerns that rather atavistic and, unfortunately, normal rite of passage of the times involving the felling of big game - in this particular case ... an elephant.
... growing up, our living room had a rather peculiar velvet-cushioned stool with large, varnished toenails.
We shall see.
Other than my own material, I am exploring the idea of delving into a letter in my possession. It is a missive from my grandfather to his mother, sent in 1928 whilst he was in Burma.
I am still researching the matter, but it concerns that rather atavistic and, unfortunately, normal rite of passage of the times involving the felling of big game - in this particular case ... an elephant.
... growing up, our living room had a rather peculiar velvet-cushioned stool with large, varnished toenails.
We shall see.
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