there ain't nothing like a great grey sheet of a sky outside the bedroom window while i am curled up in bed reading
david copperfield for what is surprisingly the first time. i think i stole this paperback copy from my father.
in the wintering i like heavy books & heavy sheets & the prospect of making soup this evening.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:my brother says to me:
We're all functions... we take in visual/audio/smell/taste/touch inputs, as well as food/water/whatnot, and we produce... crap. And other stuff like diary entries and web-based applications and songs and babies.
and he is damn right.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:last night we babysat the weetzie bat, & now we are the best honorary-aunts in town.
why, yes, i did sing �dancing queen� to stop her from crying (it worked), but come to think of it i did a fine job refraining from reciting chunks of �the love song of j alfred prufrock�. i think babies like eliot. but the weetzie bat seems mostly to like pulling up one pant leg past the knee, betraying to us all that she is secretly living in 1988.
:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:i am going to go install myself in a hot bath with davy, just in time for davy to find out he has a stepfather. the bath will involve yes candles.
it is strange to know all the plot points of a novel before i have read it. normally i go to great lengths to avoid reading any back-cover or jacket copy on books i plan to read. normally i avert my eyes when they show trailers on tv. i like to experience things completely unprepared, to minimize instances of unintended dramatic irony.
so anyway i feel a little bad, knowing davy has a stepfather, before davy himself finds out his mother has betrayed him.
