June 5th, 2008

Red Rose

Long Entry Is Long

The shutting up thing is not working out so well for me.  Wonder if there's medication for that.  Other than duct tape.

Spent the first two hours of my day in my pajamas, because my mom keeps it obscenely cold in my house, and I didn't want to put any real clothes on.  Everything since has felt a little bit hazy and relative, time most of all.  In addition, the mantra of SamSamSamSamSam running through my head is not helping in my futile quest to concentrate on things.  I was going to write down every single tiny detail I could think of, because I have this persistent paranoia revolving around forgetting things, but I think I will try to do this the organic way and let my good, old-fashioned memory hold on to things.  I'm such a good Berkeley hippie, being organic.  Hoorah!

If you remember that book that eltea lent me, which you probably don't, I decided to pick it up this morning, and then, quite predictably, I read the whole thing.  I really should just buy her a new copy and keep this one, because I blanketed the thing in thirds of Post-It notes (thirds, as whole Post-It notes are much too big, and it's a waste of paper, so I tear each one into three pieces, and... um...  /freak), because I found an absurd amount of quotes that I had to mark, as they were either amazing or pithily articulated something that had always been fluttering around in my head or both.  I was warned that this book would make me go, "Wait... someone other than me thinks about those things?", but I wasn't prepared for how much.  I mean, damn.  DAMN.

It's a good thing I didn't read it earlier, though, because it would definitely have skewed my Script Frenzy, and Justin, instead of being the harmless, naive, wounded little puppy that he is, would have absorbed a great deal of the sardonic discontentment that rightfully belongs to James.

...and I'm going to sound a bit like Peter Cameron today.  It is inevitable.  I do this osmosis thing when writers have a really strong narrative voice.  The best was Margaret Atwood; she made me sound fantastic.

Time for more gushing.  It doesn't even really count as a review, so much as just me squeeing, but in a paragraph format, probably integrating enough quoted material to count as copyright infringement.

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...in the rather less-stunning literary world, there is more Sam and Adrian to be found and perused.

I might have had more things, but I got all distracted thinking about Someday again....