Karin, reading you is a bit like seeing a Banksy: personal yet universal: very funny yet not funny at all; really rather brilliant. Thank you - and also for the reminder to revisit that Love Song.
Annemarie, that is seriously the best and most original way to convey your enjoyment. You’ve made me feel all puffed up and happy. Thank you. Thank YOU for being the right kind of reader for me.
Karin, I sent you an email re a brewing Anne Schuster project last week. The address on record bounced back. If you might be interested please whatsap me your correct email at 076 683 5795 xx
Your writing is so vivid, Karin. I appreciate it so much, I think, because I have a hard time visualising; your descriptions are always so creative and apt that I don’t need to make as much effort to “see the movie” in my head.
I love how you manage to conjure the most oblique but microsurgically accurate imagery so that with half a sentence I know the exact people you’re talking about, the exact expressions on their faces, their body language, maybe even the weather that afternoon or the ambient sounds. You have such a gift for succinct, highly creative prose and it’s obvious how being a poet has shaped the way you write in general. I’m guessing it’s because you see differently from the rest of us. Which brings me on to my final comment…
I hope you don’t talk less or more guardedly around people. If they responded that way to you, they’re just not on your wavelength and can’t think outside their social conditioning. “Babies are beautiful” seems such an odd thing to commit yourself to being deluded about, don’t you think? 😂 It’s not you; it’s them.
Wow, that means a lot! I had never known of the existence of aphantasia till you told me, so to be told by you that I make movies happen in your head is a really big deal for me. Thank you! I had such a laugh at your second-laat sentence..yes, it is a strange thing to be insistent about 😁
I’m also glad you realise what a big deal it is for me. I can always read anything you’ve written even if I can’t read anything else, long or short. I need to read more by poets, apparently. Perhaps you can recommend someone who writes from a similar place?
Hello again. I somehow missed this comment earlier. It's harder and harder for me to keep up with all the socials. Phew! Have you read the Substacks of Megan Natasha or of Toni Stuart? Both South African poets who write Substacks. Try them?
I loved reading this… how all the drama spooled and unspooled… no resolution but it didn’t leave me hanging. I have a sense that what has happened before, will happen again. Endlessly. I now have to read that poem…
Karin, my friend Kagiso would agree with you on the baby. She has this fail safe when visiting new-borns for the first time: if the baby is ugly she says, "What a a baby!' so she doesn't have to lie about it being beautiful when it isn't. She wrote about it in her book "Unf*ck yourself, unf*ck the world"
I enjoyed the pensive-walking tone of this blog. And the way you observe our humanness in the every day
I remember the title of Kagiso's book, but I never read it. Please tell her from me that her solution is perfect and it made me laugh. What a baby! Thank you, Toni. I am so glad you liked it. I never know what is going to happen on the page but there's seldom time to get anxious before posting, so knowing it resonates is so encouraging.
"Sometimes, some part of me gets highly activated and I say things I feel deeply and have thought about a lot even though I know they are not what most people think.
As I’m about to say them, I consider whether I’m with the right audience.
It happened on Wednesday.
My judgement of the audience-of-three’s rightness for my short impassioned speech was wrong.
Ah, it is good to know that others feel this too. And understand the feeling of having made a misstep. I am really glad you enjoyed this essay. Do you also like Prufrock then?
Well do I know that impulse to rehash the interaction on repeat. Agh! What we do to ourselves.
I LOVE J. Alfred. Like you, I met him in high school, and I never forgot him. I got to teach him to high schoolers several years ago, and the experience was magical for me and--I think--fun and inspiring for them. One of the classes memorized the poem and gave a dramatic recitation for the school. Seemed like some of them fell in love with Prufrock, too.
I am with Noah, in the aphantasia spectrum, and I love your details, they sing & echo in me. Can we have a live reading of Prufrock please? Better read aloud (for me) than read solo. Please?
That's some week! My sister agrees with you on the babies, but she says, "But those C-section babies come out looking like they just got back from Bermuda."
Thank you for reminding me that I love poetry. There's a lot I've forgotten that I used to enjoy. When I was in college, I worked for an English professor as his teaching assistant, and when I graduated, he gave me a book of poems. You've inspired me to pull it out and read my favorites again.
Shelby, I am having such a laugh about Bermuda babies. That's hilarious.
And how cool that you feel like reading poetry again. Poetry can be a minefield. Lots of meh, and the odd whoa. You have to be determined not to let the meh put you off.
I wouldn't be weirded out ny your baby comment. I agree, even my nieces and nephews who I think are wonderful were ugly little things at birth. They are indeed alien-like when newborn, wrinkly and blotchy with swollen eyelids and dark eyes still shocked from birth. Just because you can see them as they are, squishy and a little ugly, doesn't take away from the miracle of new life and the promise and joy it holds.
Karin, reading you is a bit like seeing a Banksy: personal yet universal: very funny yet not funny at all; really rather brilliant. Thank you - and also for the reminder to revisit that Love Song.
Annemarie, that is seriously the best and most original way to convey your enjoyment. You’ve made me feel all puffed up and happy. Thank you. Thank YOU for being the right kind of reader for me.
Karin, I sent you an email re a brewing Anne Schuster project last week. The address on record bounced back. If you might be interested please whatsap me your correct email at 076 683 5795 xx
Your writing is so vivid, Karin. I appreciate it so much, I think, because I have a hard time visualising; your descriptions are always so creative and apt that I don’t need to make as much effort to “see the movie” in my head.
I love how you manage to conjure the most oblique but microsurgically accurate imagery so that with half a sentence I know the exact people you’re talking about, the exact expressions on their faces, their body language, maybe even the weather that afternoon or the ambient sounds. You have such a gift for succinct, highly creative prose and it’s obvious how being a poet has shaped the way you write in general. I’m guessing it’s because you see differently from the rest of us. Which brings me on to my final comment…
I hope you don’t talk less or more guardedly around people. If they responded that way to you, they’re just not on your wavelength and can’t think outside their social conditioning. “Babies are beautiful” seems such an odd thing to commit yourself to being deluded about, don’t you think? 😂 It’s not you; it’s them.
Wow, that means a lot! I had never known of the existence of aphantasia till you told me, so to be told by you that I make movies happen in your head is a really big deal for me. Thank you! I had such a laugh at your second-laat sentence..yes, it is a strange thing to be insistent about 😁
Ahh. Glad I made you laugh!
I’m also glad you realise what a big deal it is for me. I can always read anything you’ve written even if I can’t read anything else, long or short. I need to read more by poets, apparently. Perhaps you can recommend someone who writes from a similar place?
Hello again. I somehow missed this comment earlier. It's harder and harder for me to keep up with all the socials. Phew! Have you read the Substacks of Megan Natasha or of Toni Stuart? Both South African poets who write Substacks. Try them?
I know the feeling! No, I haven’t come across them - thanks for the suggestions.
…I think I should read The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock every single day from now on. It feels like the only poem one would ever need to read …
Oh, you did it! It's such an obscure poem, I don't ever expect others to push through on it or even like it. I want to read it live now!
I loved reading this… how all the drama spooled and unspooled… no resolution but it didn’t leave me hanging. I have a sense that what has happened before, will happen again. Endlessly. I now have to read that poem…
Oh, that is nice to read...how you experienced it. Thank you. And I am so glad that The Love Song is now in your head too.
Karin, my friend Kagiso would agree with you on the baby. She has this fail safe when visiting new-borns for the first time: if the baby is ugly she says, "What a a baby!' so she doesn't have to lie about it being beautiful when it isn't. She wrote about it in her book "Unf*ck yourself, unf*ck the world"
I enjoyed the pensive-walking tone of this blog. And the way you observe our humanness in the every day
I remember the title of Kagiso's book, but I never read it. Please tell her from me that her solution is perfect and it made me laugh. What a baby! Thank you, Toni. I am so glad you liked it. I never know what is going to happen on the page but there's seldom time to get anxious before posting, so knowing it resonates is so encouraging.
What an incredible Prufrock-inspired essay!
I feel this segment deeply:
"Sometimes, some part of me gets highly activated and I say things I feel deeply and have thought about a lot even though I know they are not what most people think.
As I’m about to say them, I consider whether I’m with the right audience.
It happened on Wednesday.
My judgement of the audience-of-three’s rightness for my short impassioned speech was wrong.
I haven’t stopped worrying."
Ah, it is good to know that others feel this too. And understand the feeling of having made a misstep. I am really glad you enjoyed this essay. Do you also like Prufrock then?
Well do I know that impulse to rehash the interaction on repeat. Agh! What we do to ourselves.
I LOVE J. Alfred. Like you, I met him in high school, and I never forgot him. I got to teach him to high schoolers several years ago, and the experience was magical for me and--I think--fun and inspiring for them. One of the classes memorized the poem and gave a dramatic recitation for the school. Seemed like some of them fell in love with Prufrock, too.
I would have loved to have seen that. How cool that you passed the Prufrock love on to a new generation 💕
Yoh! I loved this so much! So relatable, funny, poignant and evocative.
Thanks, Louise 🩵
I am with Noah, in the aphantasia spectrum, and I love your details, they sing & echo in me. Can we have a live reading of Prufrock please? Better read aloud (for me) than read solo. Please?
https://www.theguardian.com/wellness/2024/feb/26/what-is-aphantasia-like
That's some week! My sister agrees with you on the babies, but she says, "But those C-section babies come out looking like they just got back from Bermuda."
Thank you for reminding me that I love poetry. There's a lot I've forgotten that I used to enjoy. When I was in college, I worked for an English professor as his teaching assistant, and when I graduated, he gave me a book of poems. You've inspired me to pull it out and read my favorites again.
Shelby, I am having such a laugh about Bermuda babies. That's hilarious.
And how cool that you feel like reading poetry again. Poetry can be a minefield. Lots of meh, and the odd whoa. You have to be determined not to let the meh put you off.
Give your sister a high-five from me.
As always...loved this. Thanks for keeping me in touch with my 'true writer self' - you're doing us writers a great service.
Thank you, Gillian. The encouragement is always welcome. Thank you!
I wouldn't be weirded out ny your baby comment. I agree, even my nieces and nephews who I think are wonderful were ugly little things at birth. They are indeed alien-like when newborn, wrinkly and blotchy with swollen eyelids and dark eyes still shocked from birth. Just because you can see them as they are, squishy and a little ugly, doesn't take away from the miracle of new life and the promise and joy it holds.
"Dark eyes still shocked from birth" is such a beautiful line. Thank you. It's good to know that others see what I see.
Another great newsletter - thought-provoking, relatable, enjoyable. Hope you have a good weekend.
Thank you 🌿 I love to know when a Love Letter lands well for someone. I hope your weekend is filled with good reading.