Before my trip to the birthplace of Zora Neale Hurston, I had a vague notion of what manner of suffering might make a person accept death. Love, I suspect — or at least companionship — sustained my sister during her initial round of therapies and doctor visits after the return of her cancer.
Talkin’ love and death in Miami with The Takeaway, Jami Attenberg, Christopher Beha, and many more.
“For grief there’s A Year of Magical Thinking, for breakups there’s A Girl’s Guide to Hunting and Fishing, but what could I read when I lost my cat?”
- Elegy for a Grey Cat: On Grief, Books, and His Dark Materials by Janet Potter
“Unironically loving a cat when you are a single woman is not socially savvy. Sometimes, when I would mention Zoe, I could see people wince as they tallied the facts in their head: bookish, lives alone, knits a lot, watches Charlie Rose. There’s a moment in an old MST3K episode where a cop in his squad car is dubbed to say, ‘Ehh, if I stop and get donuts I’ll just be reinforcing the stereotype.’ That’s what it was like when I got a cat.”
- Elegy for a Grey Cat: On Grief, Books, and His Dark Materials by Janet Potter
“Brave New World novelist Aldous Huxley was diagnosed with cancer in 1960, at which point his health slowly began to deteriorate. On his deathbed in November of 1963, just as he was passing away, Aldous — a man who for many years had been fascinated with the effects of psychedelic drugs since being introduced to mescaline in 1953 — asked his wife Laura to administer him with LSD. She agreed.” - Letters of Note
A man as he lay drawing his last breath,
Leaving forever, and kissed in the white dawn
The face that stiffens away, the face in death?
“My mother was what used to be called a lady when that was a compliment and a description. At one time, she wore dresses with full skirts and tight bodices. Pencil skirts. She had high heels in neutral colored leathers and purses to match. Hats and gloves and handkerchiefs with rolled edges in bright floral prints. The handkerchiefs lived in her top drawer with scarves and clutch bags and jewelry, empty bottles of Miss Dior tucked underneath, faintly scenting everything. When I was a girl, if you put your hand in the pocket of her red corduroy bathrobe or any of her coats, you were likely to find a handkerchief.”
Edra Ziesk, “When This You See, Remember Me”
Source: themillions.com




