Like you, I’m occasionally at a loss for words. Less sass, more morass. But the laughter is still there, just leaning underneath the existential dilemmas. Times like these, other blogs are like hands reaching out in friendship. Like good literature or fine wine or an old friend’s smile.. things that keep our lonely hearts comforted, quiet, and smiling.
Living life fiercely and with great passion comes naturally to some of us with more snark than softness, but when the snark lies down tired and worn, and what’s left is some sort of Hallmark pea gravel, one is disinclined to gaggify the blogosphere more than absolutely necessary.
So I’ll leave it at this… One of Emily Dickinson’s finest:
Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile the winds
To a heart in port,
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.
Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!
When life gives you pea gravel, make pea-ade.
Or, don’t actually. Nevermind.
This was wonderful
Very sweet!
Hey, that your laptop? I LOVE the stripes! Very fun!
I don’t think you’re as snarky as you say, my lovely. Rest well.
My friend, sometimes I think people use snark as a means of avoiding the painful truth. Tuck in your snark, let it rest and just be wonderful searching you, the same person who knows that when I speak of rollercoasters, I’m not being literal…
The words will come back. Just breathe!
Strangely, reading Crankmama has made it ever harder for me to get in touch with my inner snark. I think you are reforming me.