Stuff your angst and choke on it...
Rain. Buckets of it. Rivers of it. Slogging through sidewalk puddles and wringing out my pants at the door kind of rain. If I had wanted to live in Seattle I would BE there, and not in Texas, where there is supposed to be a little more sun and a lot more dry. Not so, while my fingers twitch at the thought of a steaming mug of hot drink to help me swallow these grey day blues. A scribble or two and I enter a haiku in a contest at boingboing.net, the prize being Dave Eggers' book, Zeitoun. My fingers would be crossed but I am typing, and if I wanted that sort of digit-hell I would be using an ergonomic keyboard.
My attention span is even shorter than usual on days like this, and I wander the house picking up books and setting them down, sighing or snarling, reading a page or a paragraph at most until I settle. Today, I was sucked back into the mad spiral of brilliance that is Terry Pratchett's Discworld series. The latest installment lies just outside my reach at the moment (gathering dust on a bookstore shelf while I debate buying it unread and risking disappointment, since Pratchett post-diagnosis has been discouraging).
I started off with Witches Abroad, a tale of stories gone awry and witches far from home. (Somehow this led to a naptime dream of eggplants and lettuce and hovering flies while slow and sleepy elder gods arose when their vegetable offering was consumed by starving peasants...)
On to Carpe Jugulum...
My attention span is even shorter than usual on days like this, and I wander the house picking up books and setting them down, sighing or snarling, reading a page or a paragraph at most until I settle. Today, I was sucked back into the mad spiral of brilliance that is Terry Pratchett's Discworld series. The latest installment lies just outside my reach at the moment (gathering dust on a bookstore shelf while I debate buying it unread and risking disappointment, since Pratchett post-diagnosis has been discouraging).
I started off with Witches Abroad, a tale of stories gone awry and witches far from home. (Somehow this led to a naptime dream of eggplants and lettuce and hovering flies while slow and sleepy elder gods arose when their vegetable offering was consumed by starving peasants...)
On to Carpe Jugulum...