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9 November Boy o boy. I've been re-reading Operating Instructions, and last night I read this bit:
"It's my birthday today. I'm thirty-six. I once wrote a book where a little boy named Joe woke up this morning on his birthday. I think he was eight or nine, and his parents weren't getting along at all that day, and he went out into the garden, found his cat, and whispered to her:
I read that and I was overwhelmed by this rush of loneliness and just burst into tears. I sat there sobbing, thinking that I really love to be alone, I crave being alone, I need to be alone, but at that moment I really wanted to be with someone. I cried for about five minutes, and then it was over. I guess spells like that come with being human.
So I did get into the darkroom after all yesterday! There was a cancellation at the darkroom so I was able to get in and blow up the other three pictures, the ones of Cynthia and the kids and Scott. All I have to do it get the mats and the frames and do the colouring in and I'm cool. And if you have yet to see the pics that I'm talking about, go here.
The other day I returned my velveteen jumper that I got for my birthday from Tweeds. I really liked it in the catalog, but when I got it I discovered that the skirt was straight, and someone with a tummy and a butt simply cannot by any stretch of the imagination wear a straight skirt. When I put it on and turned sideways I looked like the letter "S".
So I traded it in for a sweater and a matching skirt.
On my ever evolving good journals to check out list, the once and former writer of
journal burroughs has another journal! It's called
The Lowing of
the Cows and it's just swell, except for the fact that in the 16 October entry he mentions reading every journal known to man.
Ahem. Well, he did link me on his non-readers list, so all is cool. And it's an awfully good journal. Now available in blue!
One year ago today:
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