rise up

there is so much going on in my family right now, and so far away– they are all over the place– not many of them but all over, like a the fingertips of a giant claw holding the earth.  not to be grand.  but there is something about the numbed out perspective that made me feel, somewhere between the staircase and the laundry just now, a sense of the book I am trying to write– the large shape of it, the way to make it concrete.  The boy madman is almost dead when we see him on the page, but we hear about his history, and we see some fallout, the biggest fallout right about where I left off writing before teaching this quarter.  The girl madman has been not in the book– she has been incapacitated and missing.  But now that the boy madman’s story has come to one kind of head I think she can really rise from the dead.  I have to remember how aware she is of having risen from the dead even if it isn’t visible to other people.  Now she can move the plot.  I know the image that goes with this section.  My sister painted it.

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