blades of grass


Reverie, Dante Gabriel Rossetti

I’m like the inchworm that climbs to the tip of a blade of grass, then waves about in a panic, near to losing its fragile hold, tiny head seeking the next blade of grass. That’s me, wailing and waving about, clinging to my blade of grass, all the while I’m in a sea of grass, and soon enough my tiny head bumps into one, thus it goes with the writing of A Lamentation of Swans. I’m at Chapter 2, clinging, frantic, and blind.

Today is Chinese New Year, 4706 by the Chinese lunar calendar, and Year of the Rat. Like the noble Rat in Chinese culture, I must be industrious and productive. So there.