Readings I Recommend

  • Winesburg, Ohio by Sherwood Anderson
  • Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
  • Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
  • Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris
  • It's Beginning to Hurt by James Lasdun
  • The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
  • The Man Who was Thursday by G.K. Chesterton
  • Identity by Milan Kundera
  • A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway
  • Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer

Additional Blogs I Recommend

Sunday, January 24, 2010

January 22; 7:04AM

The only light in the room was filtered by gold curtains which hung loosely against the window. We were tangled in white sheets from the love-making we just finished. He started kissing me with apprehension, softly mouthing inaudible words as we kissed; Jumbled words that formed sentences, with sound, evolving into speech, describing all the things about me he could not love.

"I can't love you anymore. Your body doesn't feel right."

I continued kissing him hungrily, trying to make his words go away. Instead of stifling his comments, they began infiltrating my mind, making me see myself as he had begun seeing me. Then I could only see my mouth, my loathsome mouth, that held the last memories I had of the man that once filled the empty space on my bed.

I woke up and went to class.
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1 comment:

  1. LesleyJanuary 27, 2010 at 2:26 PM

    I must admit this one was hard for me to read. This part spoke to me very deeply:

    "Then I could only see my mouth, my loathsome mouth, that held the last memories I had of the man that once filled the empty space on my bed."

    Calls up a lot of memories.

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