Wednesday, November 03, 2010

Three Crooked Hearts, Swirls All Around

Sitting in wet Wednesday evening traffic on Clanbrassil Street, I switch the wipers to intermittent and put the handbrake on. The car feels like it's drawing breath. It's not just the car. I like Clanbrassil Street's slow snake of traffic after the clutch-heavy climb up Christchurch hill. I know I'm almost home. The raindrops gathering on the windscreen soak up the red of the traffic and tail lights ahead, the blinking orange of the indicators, the gleaming white headlamps of the oncoming cars. Just as their glitter and twinkle eclipses the road ahead, the wiper slowly smears the colour across the screen, a slow, squeaky sweep up and back, before the rain falls softly once more and dapples the dirty dark day with a little more light. I have to work to be optimistic, sometimes, when I'm feeling stuck and stealing five minutes where and when I can. But in wet Wednesday evening traffic on Clanbrassil Street, with a thousand lights shining through the drizzle, I'll smile.


Anonymous said...

You write such affecting stuff. Tender, hopeful, sad, poignant, funny - all mixed up. Like we all are. In a good way of course. I do like it.

Rosie said...

thanks. it's great to be encouraged.

Thursday said...

I've lurked for about 2 years and am finally compelled to say that your writing is exquisite.

Amy said...

Lights in rain are mesmerizing. I've always loved the way they are distorted when a wiper blade goes across the wind shield, you've really described that beautifully.

Rosie said...

you're all being very nice to me today. on bad days when i write a post and nobody comments i assume it's because nobody loves me and everybody hates me and my blog is stupid and... and... *sniff*

i am a joy to live with.

Anonymous said...

Never assume you are not read - we readers 'lurk' (good word, if a bit creepy), and take it all in.
But OK, we do get the message.
We must send you more love in the form of regular comments.
Will try.
You do your magic with words stuff, and we do our clumsy comments. Deal? :-)

Tessa said...

What Thursday said ... truly exquisite. And you're daft if you don't realise how gifted you are, Rosie.

(Although, I did read somewhere about a research project indicating that the better people are at something, the more they doubt themselves. It's usually the more stupid among us who have no doubts about their own utter fabulosity.)

Kitty Cat said...

That was so lovely to read. I'm the same, I usually feel like I'm just talking to myself when I blog until someone comments!

Conan Drumm said...

Now you've gone and done it, being brilliant again, messing with time and space so I'm back there, in the city, porous to every little thing as the winter draws in.

Annie said...

Thursday! There's a blast from the past.

I have also noticed similar things about my windscreen when sitting in traffic. Very nice. Oh I love cars.

Rosie said...

thanks, Anonymous (and yay for emotional blackmail!).

Tessa, that research would no doubt conclude that i am also an excellent breakdancer with an exquisite singing voice. it'd be right, of course. i'd make a video to prove it, but i'm modest.

get something to monitor your stats, Kitty, then you can see how many people have read and didn't comment and assume that everybody hates you and your blog is stupid and... etc. Statcounter: it's at least half the fun of blogging.

Conan, write me a book. i miss getting that same feeling from your blog.

you've got winter motoring to look forward to, Annie. months of sneering at stupid pedestrians and cyclists getting battered by the wind and rain, and at least one long afternoon spent skidding home though the snow at a snail's pace and vowing never ever to drive again.