Jayne Guertin's Blog
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Feb.04.2013
I'm in the dining room, the warmest room in the house, tapping my laptop's keys with the pads of my fingertips, attempting to hit something, anything (maybe it's the coffee pot—which I've already too often hit—or, maybe it's the pavement that beckons me, walk! or, it might...
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Dec.10.2012
We give too much credence to technology, and the notion that it brings rapid change to everything: that everything is all hurry up and get this done now because it is all at your fingertips, and there is no good reason why you can't be on top of it at this very second. You can...
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Dec.10.2012
Glistening flakes gently slipped earthward, unremittingly, a zephyr misleading its might, quieting and dampening the day with its dense crystal. Maples bowed and brush gave in. Onyx wiring from pole to pole sagged and threatened. And then, a lull, followed by cordoned conduits, and an unexpected (...
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Dec.05.2012
She is on the commuter rail reading the restored edition of Hemingway's A Moveable Feast. Her eyes are misting over like the city she's about to walk through. She can't let go the last line of the Forward, what Hemingway's son, Patrick, reveals to be his father's last professional...
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Dec.03.2012
Usually, she tries to think about the road. Ordinarily she listens. To NPR, to which she is utterly addicted. Sometimes she fantasizes that she is working for NPR. Or with NPR, with its brilliant reporters, producers and commentators. Maybe she's assisting with or producing a show for Ira...
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"How surely gravity's law,
strong as an ocean current,
takes hold of even the smallest thing
and pulls it toward the heart of the world...
This is what things can teach us:
to fall;
patiently to trust our heaviness.”
—Ranier Maria Rilke, Book of Hours
About Jayne
Displaced urbanite, suburban survivor / attempts to make writing more than a minor.