Pink Moon Self-Portrait
Once I told a poet at a bar that I was having difficulty. "Oh, Joanna," she said. "Don't have difficulty." I laughed at myself then, at all of it. I tried to leave for the woods to stare at a fire, but the poets came and sat on my log, talking about the job market. True story of difficulty. Perhaps you will understand if I tell you that I sat in the driveway for a good five minutes before getting out of the car this afternoon, wondering if I should call someone because a squirrel was looking at me funny. Finally I honked the horn to make it go away. Then honked again. It's like what Virginia Woolf said--if you could see what really moves through your friends' minds throughout the day, you'd be appalled. Once something really odd gave me the giggles in a college fiction class, and the guy sitting next to me said, "That's exactly the kind of thing that would make her laugh." The wave of affection I felt for myself then would appall you.