But it’s tedium, I swear. This is why there is space between posts:
I make coffee when I get up and drink a cup before I eat. I make 10 cups pots and nearly finish them except for the half-full mugs I have a tendency to leave around. My sister says that my mother and I have this in common –littering our houses with un-drunk coffee, creamer coagulating in fine, fake-dairy wisps on the surface.
I have been crocheting. Am making a “bolero,” which will hopefully not look as ridiculous when finished as its name sounds. Sounds like it should be a hat with a wide brim and, like, frills. In fact, it’s more like a sweater for those of us who are not brave enough to tackle things like shoulder seams. I fear it will either look ugly on me, or not match anything else I own. If that’s the case, I surely won’t be able to find someone to give it away to, so it will sit in my closet and remind me of failure.
Am currently reading The Time Traveler’s Wife, which is beginning to bore. I read marathons today in order to get through it, as I find myself drawn towards other books on my shelves –the Mahabharata, for some reason, though I know it will not hold my attention and only seems like a good idea in the abstract, and Hesse.
Met another of my sister’s friends today, a boy who came back from the summer a no-longer Christian, who brought up Siddhartha in the same conversation, in the context of ‘Siddhartha pretty much got it right.’ I want to reread Journey to the East because all I can remember of it is a passage saying that people who didn’t make a journey with you won’t believe the tale you tell of it.
I crocheted a catnip mouse a few weeks ago for the cat. The now-former-Christian-devotee-of-Hesse said: “You made it so that it could be destroyed?” You should see how our Oliver loves his mouse.
I said that all things are created to be destroyed; he accused me of nihilism. To be fair, I was on my third cup of coffee and angrily stalking flies around the kitchen.
They left and went to Center City; I ate a burrito that gave me heartburn.
Made a polenta casserole for dinner which wasn’t bad considering the fact that I don’t know anything about polenta or casseroles. Put jalapeños on top whose jar has the word “hot” on the label surrounded by flames, a detail that I didn’t notice until the first time I tried to eat them. I can do hot, but not hot with flames. These jalapeños give me hiccups.
Watched Too Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar on Netflix, tried in vain to conquer my book, and now have turned on Conan, who comes in poorly on my rabbit ear. Jeff Goldblum apparently has a new movie called Pittsburgh.
Here’s the problem with the book: the male protagonist says “I love you” too often and too earnestly adores his wife. Since the thought “You can tell he was written by a woman” crossed my mind, the fact has dogged my reading. Their love exhausts me and I need to be done with it.