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Even when I look straight into the milky blue eyes I can't find myself any more. When did I stop being me?

Sara Gruen

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Sara Gruen
Age: 55
Born: 1969
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Vancouver
British Columbia
Even
Straight
Blue
Stop
Eyes
Eye
Find
Look
Looks
Milky

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The thought has cheered me, and I'd like to hang onto that. Must protect my little pockets of happiness.
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Dear God. Not only am I unemployed and homeless, but I also have a pregnant woman, bereaved dog, elephant, and eleven horses to take care of.
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Being the survivor stinks.
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When two people are meant to be together, they will be together. It's fate.
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Must protect my little pockets of happiness.
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I scan the room. Catherine is writing quickly, her light brown hair falling over her face. She is left-handed, and because she writes in pencil her left arm is silver from wrist to elbow.
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I roll onto my side and stare out the venetian blinds at the blue sky beyond. After a few minutes I'm lulled into a sort of peace. The sky, the sky--same as it always was.
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But it all zipped by. One minute Marlena and I were up to our eyeballs, and the next thing we knew the kids were borrowing the car and fleeing the coop for college. And now, here I am. In my nineties and alone.
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Life is the most spectacular show on earth.
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Keeping up the appearance of having all your marbles is hard work, but important.
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I don't like outlining, because books are organic things. Sometimes a book doesn't want to be written in a certain way.
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You do right by me, I'll show you a life most suckers can't even dream of.
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I hate this bizarre policy of protective exclusion, because it effectively writes me off the page.
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Sometimes I think if I had to choose between an ear of corn or making love to a woman, I'd choose the corn.
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With a secret like that, at some point the secret itself becomes irrelevant. The fact that you kept it does not.
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I tend not to think about the reading public at all, or the business, when I'm writing.
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Then I lie down on the horse blanket and drift into a dream about Marlena that will probably cost me my soul.
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I am further back, surrounded on all sides by wailing men, their faces shiny with tears. Uncle Al promised three dollars and a bottle of Canadian whiskey to the man who puts on the best show. You've never seen such grief-- even the dogs were howling.
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Do you have any idea how much an elephant drinks?
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You work hard on a book and throw it out there and then it's beyond your control.
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