Says one time he went out in the wilderness to find his own soul, an’ he found he didn’t have no soul that was his’n. Says he foun’ he jus’ got a little piece of a great big soul. Says wilderness ain’t no good cause his little piece of soul wasn’t good ‘less it was with the rest, an’ was whole. Funny how I remember. Didn’ think I was even listening. But I know now a fella ain’t no good alone.
-the grapes of wrath, p 437
There was no system to soothe the unfairness of things; justice was without scope; it might snag the stealer of chickens, but great evasive crimes would have to be dismissed because, if identified and netted, they would bring the entire structure of so-called civilisation. For crimes that took place between two nations, for crimes that took place in those intimate spaces between two people without a witness, for these crimes the guilty would never pay. There was no religion and no government that would relieve people from this hell.
-The Inheritance of Loss, Kiran Desai
So many almosts.
But the pain of an almost is always better than the easy void of a not at all.
The day I choose the certainty of a not at all over the risk of an almost is the day I allow my youth to crumble.
My youth will never crumble.
I might live a life full of almosts, or maybe, one day, an almost will cease to be an almost and we’ll be there.
And it will be worth every other almost.
But fuck almosts.
I make up life events in my head not because I wish they had happened but because I wish I had more stories to tell you. Not because I want to impress you but because you are such a good listener. I love how you listen to me.
I feel heard.
the wig is curling
cries of joy
bouncing of pavement
staring at the beauty
of it all
And I forget about you
Mere still mortal
I crash horribly forward
I propel perfectly forward
You cannot keep up
don’t want to keep up
See you never
What’s this call, this sperit? An’ I says, ‘It’s love. I love people so much I’m fit to bust, sometimes.’ An’ I says, ‘Don’t you love Jesus?’ Well, I thought an’ thought, an’ finally I says, ‘No I don’t know nobody name’ Jesus. I know a bunch of stories, but I only love people. An’ sometimes, I love ’em fit to bust, an’ I want to make ’em happy, so I been preachin’ somepin I thought would make em happy.
– the grapes of wrath, page 26