Tuesday, May 12, 2009

The Snakes are here!


Well, since I no longer have the goat herd keeping the vegetation down, the snakes have arrived in spades. This morning, I go out and Max is having kittens over near the drop off. I go over because I know how a dog behaves around a snake before it has been bitten--and Max is doing just that happy dance. The one before they become intimately aware of what a massive envenomation feels like. I call him off and there right in front of him, reared up like a cobra and coiled in four zig-zagged, snakey neck springs--OH NOES--it's crotalus horridus! A Timber Rattler. Actually, it's the only rattler I've seen in the wild here, not counting Pastor Jimmy's church snakes. I stand there clapping my hands to keep Max's attention--he's scared because he thinks he's pissed me off--until the rattler backs down. Max and Shadow get frogmarched into the house where we wait for the snake to find a better place to hang out and for Max to lose interest.

Speaking of venomous reptiles, I ran into Pastor Jimmy and Pam outside the library last week. It reminded me how much I've missed their company and I think I should make an effort to go to church. Perhaps it will pull me out of my funk. And Jimmy should really come snake hunting up here now, especially now that the snakes are back.

The story I've been writing this week has not been going well. Primarily because I got sucked into my research. There's something about the late 18th century that calls to me in a very personal way. Anyway, I've been rereading Sade--yes, as in the Marquis de...and feeling very sympathetic towards him. I've actually shed a few tears for him this week. His life was such a train wreck and the deeper I delved into his life, the more I realized he reminded me of Scott--I think because Sade lacked filters like Scott does. And if you are reading this, going on what you think you know about Sade, then you may be a bit horrified I feel so sad for him. But really, if you compare him to the monsters that surrounded him--beings like Robespierre and Saint-Just--he comes off as a kitten. A sort of screwed up, self-involved, control freak kitten with issues needing serious therapy, but certainly not the boogie-man history painted him as. I think he was pretty much robbed. I hope he got a do-over without the maniacal monster-in-law.

Anyway, I started writing a story using Sade's voice but realized I wasn't ready. Sometimes you have to wait until you are ready to write a thing and no matter how much you force it, it won't come. I know that story is in me, it's just not ripe yet.

1 Comment:

  1. Gary Carden said...
    Rosie,
    Have you seen that marvelous film about De Sade? I can't remember the name of it, but he is in the insane asylum smuggling out his memoirs by passing them to other inmates. Then, there is that "arty" one about De Sade's theatrical production. I think maybe it is called Marat/Sade.
    At least that is close

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