Friday, November 26, 2010

Willie Master's Lonesome Wife

Most people are distressed, honestly enough, by their own dirt. Imagine the shit of a lifetime packed into tubs. It would be of comfort knowing it was yours. Still, the dirt of others is even more distressing. Pick another's nose, for instance. Proof enough? Well, that's my theory. We get used to it—our own—we get used to it. Soldiers get used to it. They get used to death, distress, and the dirt of others. Mothers, of course, get used to it. We whores get used to it. But all of us are harlots in ourselves, and soldiers: we get used to it—our dead breath and dying eyelight, bare basins and odd bodies—used to living in a trench. - William Gass, Willie Master's Lonesome Wife (part of my 32 Books For My 32nd Year "challenge.")

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