i feel.. lost in space, translucent like wax paper, without footsteps and fingerprints.
i finished reading the time traveler's wife by audrey niffenegger this afternoon. i began reading it before my wednesday evening class this week; the beginning of the novel begins with a sex scene of interesting proportions, and after my eyebrows raised a bit i left my bookmark in place and scribbled in a letter to eva a note that said 'someone should have told me not to read erotica in class... it is awfully warm in here tonight.'
the last half of the book, read propped up in the bedroom with the little dog curled around my feet, enticed more tears than I was expecting. i really asked myself, why are you crying like a newborn over these characters who are so reluctant, where is this coming from? who are you? the tears would not stop as if it was the middle of the night.
i'm not sleeping well. most late evenings i wrap myself in a blanket on the couch and watch movies that i do not remember in the morning. i have vague ideas for nanowrimo 2008
and am in the middle of 30 days of worldbuilding
which is more fun than i almost want to admit. i've downloaded character creators and outline helpers and charts and graphs galore, and look forward when i can use the solitary hour of one a.m. to make these characters dance in my head.
one more thing: i love whomever lives directly east of me, and their washing machine. it is a lullaby which captures my quiet attention faster than mother goose. the rest of this beautiful late september evening will be spent listening to it and the light noise from outside, sipping blackberry tea that my sister so thoughtfully sent to me from the great northwest this summer (if that is where you need to be, sweetpea, you have my heart and my blessing) and pondering last names, hometowns, and astrological signs.