Wednesday, February 13, 2013

i don't quite know what to do with myself today.  i wish i had these shoes--i would just sit and stare at my own feet.  i've sent my manuscript to my agent.  she will divulge an opinion, which will probably be somewhat cryptic and maddeningly calm.  until then, however, i am free to read.  making my way through the george saunders book.  finishing to kill a mockingbird for the third time because e is reading it and i wanted to be fresh for conversation.  atticus, scout, jem and cal are just about the four most lovable characters i know.  i'm reading slowly, looking for the book's joints and seams.  it makes me happy when i spot one, when i can almost imagine being harper lee and making the choices that would wind up creating such a moving, graceful book.  this reminder--that all books come from people--makes me love people more than i might.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Tuesday, January 1, 2013

well.  the upside to sickness is the quiet.  it's been loads of reading and even long stretches of just thinking.  when does that happen anymore?  just sitting on the couch, staring out the window, noticing everything and nothing.  how the telephone poles seem to come together like knitting needles, where the birds congregate and then fall apart, how the sun hits the mountain and makes the house melancholy.  work enters without a sound, creeping up on me, announcing its urgency and revealing my own.  everything throughout the long, quiet, sick days seems to be instructive.  as though somehow all i needed was to just be quiet.