We sat on a hilltop. On soft grass.
We talked about things and looked out at the vista. We saw fields and forests and mountains leading far away. This was as green as we had seen it here. Solitary clouds hung still in the sweltering sky. The air smelled fragrant. Insects buzzed past our ears.
We sat and talked.
Sometimes you met someone and you made a connection. Sometimes you met someone who gave you hope about people. She was young but she was smart. She wouldn’t be one of the robots. She would face the tide, find her way and get by.
But it was time to go.
We stood up. The grass bounced back as if we had never been.
Sometimes you met someone who gave you hope and then you parted. Two lives that briefly crossed and connected. Then you’re left with the sadness of another good moment gone forever.
Of course, being objective, it’s quite possible she just thought that I was a tedious knobhead.
You left to do something different, so live every bit of it differently than you did back home. Don't fall into patterns that gave you same disatisfaction that led you to the New World. What is that definition of insanity? Repeating the same action and expecting a different result. Now go find the lady on the hill and practice your Samba.
ReplyDeleteThe old winning formula is alive and well on the Costa Rican hillsides.
ReplyDeleteLaughed a lot, despite the wrong tense in the middle (should really be: 'Sometimes you meet someone and you make a connection...') and what seems like a narrative flaw here, namely lack of any indication as to why you would not be meeting again, unless it really is that you were a tedious knobhead and you know it, but I would like to know what you did that was so tediously knobheaded, it would seem a rounder piece, or are you inviting the reader to think, ah, well it's Seb isn't it, what d'you expect, he couldn't cop off with a girl on a hillside even if he paid her. So, I'm wondering, what are you saying old chum, what's this about facing the tide you're putting in her arena, I don't get this, there's something not the full shilling here, you've missed out the story for the sake of the punchline.
Blimey, the daggers are out...
ReplyDeleteShe was 19.
Too, too far apart in stages of life even if we did 'connect'. (Don't argue, I was there...)
Re tense, yes, I did think about that but I think the past tense works as well, and better for the flow.
As for more detail, it's a blog post not War and Peace. It gives a snapshot of a moment, does it seriously need all the gaps filled in?
'Does it seriously need all the gaps filled in?'
ReplyDeleteObviously not, if you're happy with it the way it is. Thought you might be getting fed up with the formulaic style by now, but if you still think it has some mileage and it is only 'a blog post', then carry on. I mean, literary criticism is sometimes wanted sometimes not. I wouldn't waste my time critiquing a joke out of a cracker. But you have comments enabled. What the hell else should one comment on? Still under the impression that you are a writer, but if you have now gone native as a blogger I guess it would be better to say stuff like congratulations on evoking cheap scenes of poignancy in a faraway place, where the poetry of lost love is not something you want to carry very far, just dismiss it with knobhead humour for the by-now-expected standard punchline. Personally, though, you could try engaging with emotions rather than just using them as vague tropes for pathos and throwaway lines. I don't expect War and Peace, but I do expect less laziness with words from someone of your talent. Is that knives out? Bollocks, just straight talking.
Leo is mean.
ReplyDelete19?!?!?! Blimey, forget everything I said. Either a machete-bearing father looking for blood or embracing Catholic mother looking for 18 grandchilder would be right around the corner. Run, man. RUN!!!!
ReplyDeletego with it- what is age but a number . If the moment needs it go with it - I agree with anonymous 8th april- let it go
ReplyDeletes.x
I see Joel is on form or perhaps just bored...
ReplyDelete'Evoking cheap scenes of poignancy in a faraway place'... 'You could try engaging with emotions'...
Interesting comments but methinks you doth protest too much...
There was nothing 'cheap' about the moment which is why I was moved to write about it. I tried to convey the mood in the style and I did try and write a good piece. Whether I am a writer or not is open to discussion, but is a blogger not a writer anyway? Are we making a difference between someone who takes it seriously and someone who posts about their breakfast?
The last line is a 'take it or leave it' line. I'll admit it often is, call it formula if you want, but it shouldn't detract from the main piece. It's like a bad sequel, you can just ignore it.
And I would argue that I do 'engage' with emotions otherwise there wouldn't be the posts. It's not a dissection if that's what you mean but that is an endless task...
I object strongly to 'laziness with words', facile perhaps, but never lazy...
I wrote (what I thought was) a quirky comment several days ago about the grass and whether, perhaps, they aerated it before feeding it to make it so bouncy and soft.
ReplyDeleteHaving just looked I now realise it was never posted and my moment, my connection, is/was lost.
So instead, I have decided to plump for, shouldn't that be: old, tedious knobhead?