So while it took me 24 hours to physically get home from Bali – to fly from Denpasar International Airport to Hong Kong, and then on to San Francisco – it only took me about 10 minutes in the car the next day to become some wild eyed impatient bitch who was half an inch from leaning on her horn because some dude in front of her wouldn’t turn right at the red even though he COULD HAVE.
“Oh my god,” I thought, slowly pulling my hand back from the wheel, “so this is how it starts.”
For Want of Slow is a piece of writing my friend and Wild Writing student, Lori Saltzman wrote in class last week. I asked her if I could share it here.
What I need you to know is
I feel like a temporary survivor of a fatal epidemic
Like walking the set of a horror movie
One of those deadly plague films
where everyone acts as if everything is normal
Suddenly there’s a look in their eye, a subtle change in the tempo of speech
I keep wanting to text my younger brother Wally, who is recovering from surgery in Los Angeles. I keep wanting to ask him, “What’s it like now?” to find out if he’s still standing in the light that shone when the veils parted two weeks ago, when a football sized tumor…
Here’s the doggy dog truth. It’s Thursday night and for practically a whole week, when I haven’t been teaching – which I do every morning – or going to the gym for a run, I’ve been sitting in this chair in my living room trying to write a piece on family, which someone has asked me to write. I’ve come at it from every angle, trying to find a way in, a great first line or an anecdote. I thought I had it at one point, but two smart writer friends sent me back to the drawing board. It’s due in a couple of days and I can’t say that I’ve gotten any closer to moving into the heart of the piece