Today I soaked in the bathtub, drank a beer and read a little more of "Telegraph Avenue." Throw in "worried" (where is everyone? why is the dryer still running?) and you'll see that I was actually quad-tasking. (#superstud #freak).
I like the hashtag. I like how it's replaced italics and parentheses for those moments when you need your inner thoughts to be heard as well as whatever drivel your fingers are typing.
#what?
During my strenuous hour of multi-tasking, I came across a passage that stopped me cold, meaning made me close the book and my eyes. The truth can whack you like that. Like the knife that finished off old Gyp Rosetti (#boardwalkempire). Prose can do that. (Literary analysis #penta-tasking.)
"The little boy had wandered away from his mother, tacking across the grass toward the play structure. His mother watched him go, proud, tickled, unaware that every time they toddled away from you, they came back a little different, ten seconds older and nearer to the day when they left you for good. Pearl divers in training, staying under a few seconds longer every time."
My little pearl divers. Rose is home for winter break. She no longer talks about transferring to a West Coast school after two years. She did tell me of a Christmas decoration strung above a busy New York avenue (Park? Fifth?). It was single, brightly lit star suspended in the sky, so glowing and so beautiful that for a minute she thought it was magic. As she spoke, I saw the bubbles in a trail. Me on the surface.
