From yesterday, there isn’t much I like, so this may be another round of writing and thinking. But it’s late, so I’ll have to write quickly. Sometimes that’s a good idea.
I like: My bait hangs like … calling the bass and catfish …as if it…guarded the perimeter of some undersea nation.
Hmm. That’s it. OK, let’s just write some stuff. And I have to remember, the word is palter. To talk/act insincerely. To trifle with.
I knew a woman who said, “I wouldn’t divorce unless there was physical abuse.” And I almost said, “But what if he said, every day, ‘I sure wish you were a little prettier.’?”
Three hundred sixty-five utterances a year. Paltering to his wife, wearing her down like throwing pebbles against a tree trunk. Smirking at his friends afterward, drinking his beer that she just brought.
There’s no harm, she thinks, he’s just teasing. But each day she becomes an old newspaper. She dresses in pale blue. When she talks to you, she reminds you of a lab hamster always expecting the needle.
Well, there’re a couple of good things there. A theme’s emerging. I really like “she becomes an old newspaper.” I hope I can keep that.