January 29, 2013
Editing my 1995 diary I keep noticing all the ways that Teresa and I didn’t know each other at all. She says, “What is it you do when you pop?” Or I talk to her about her art, which, I now know, she can’t stand. And how we started making up our own language right away. To pop: verb, to get out of bed. And there’s something delicious about that period of finding out each other’s ways.
But I do look back at those two very young people and think–lambs to the slaughter. I had no idea she could be so cranky. And she had no idea I could be so indifferent.
This inspires me to write a Haiku: Ahem.
In short, she’s a bitch
Luckily, I am a cow
And then there’s Enzo
I hope it’s obvious that I mean bitch and cow in the nicest possible way.
I remember in Al Stephens’s Hardy class we must have been talking about Tess’s revelation of her Fall right after she married Angel, and Mr. Stephens said, “Everyone gets married with inadequate information.” That’s especially nice coming from most happily married person I’ve ever come across.
Advice to young people: have good luck.