Sanity & Insanity
I danced in the rain today.
Er, for "danced", read "stood on the verandah for a very long time", but it's better than watching the rain from the window, right? It smelled so wonderful and spring-like and green. The storm came before anyone had time to get used to the idea that it might--suddenly the sky went dark and everything turned a queer shade of green, and it stormed. It was amazingly dramatic, with rain coming down as enthusiastically if it had just discovered how, and great crashes of thunder and green-white lightening, and all the windows were open, so the freshness drifted in, though our wood floors got rather prosaically splashy, as did the inside of my guitar case, as I was daft enough to leave it open under the window on top of two laundry baskets, as my room is beginning to look like three war zones and a daycare and I really ought to spend a day (or week) making the floor visible again.
(I was wearing my long patchy hippie skirt, however. Surely this should count for something!)
On the writing front, my muse seems to be a) alseep, b) on holiday, or c) on strike. The latter is extremely possible, as I tend to ignore said muse if she harangues me at an inconvenient time. Oddly, I haven't written anything late at night in a while--not on a whim, anyway; the last bits I wrote in The Way the World Ends were the result of me furtively using the computer past midnight, but it was more the sort of occasion upon which I force the words to take shape instead of having them buzzing through my mind until I turn on the lamp and fumble for a pen. My mind has been feeling much more clear today than it has the past several headache-plagued days (need new spectacles, as mine are four or five years old), so perhaps my muse will actually behave, however briefly.
Also, WE ARE GETTING HIGH SPEED INTERNET. Watch me recklessly abandon punctuation in my freakish glee. But ohmysweetword, I can watch movie trailers and music videos and play internet radio ALL DAY LOOOONG. Must get Dad's internet radio recommendations, as he wouldn't stop telling me about all the splendid stuff he listens to at work occasionally with FULL KNOWLEDGE that I can't get any of it on this rubbishly dial-up connection. Bleh. Anyway. High speed = *TWIRLS*
Er, for "danced", read "stood on the verandah for a very long time", but it's better than watching the rain from the window, right? It smelled so wonderful and spring-like and green. The storm came before anyone had time to get used to the idea that it might--suddenly the sky went dark and everything turned a queer shade of green, and it stormed. It was amazingly dramatic, with rain coming down as enthusiastically if it had just discovered how, and great crashes of thunder and green-white lightening, and all the windows were open, so the freshness drifted in, though our wood floors got rather prosaically splashy, as did the inside of my guitar case, as I was daft enough to leave it open under the window on top of two laundry baskets, as my room is beginning to look like three war zones and a daycare and I really ought to spend a day (or week) making the floor visible again.
(I was wearing my long patchy hippie skirt, however. Surely this should count for something!)
On the writing front, my muse seems to be a) alseep, b) on holiday, or c) on strike. The latter is extremely possible, as I tend to ignore said muse if she harangues me at an inconvenient time. Oddly, I haven't written anything late at night in a while--not on a whim, anyway; the last bits I wrote in The Way the World Ends were the result of me furtively using the computer past midnight, but it was more the sort of occasion upon which I force the words to take shape instead of having them buzzing through my mind until I turn on the lamp and fumble for a pen. My mind has been feeling much more clear today than it has the past several headache-plagued days (need new spectacles, as mine are four or five years old), so perhaps my muse will actually behave, however briefly.
Also, WE ARE GETTING HIGH SPEED INTERNET. Watch me recklessly abandon punctuation in my freakish glee. But ohmysweetword, I can watch movie trailers and music videos and play internet radio ALL DAY LOOOONG. Must get Dad's internet radio recommendations, as he wouldn't stop telling me about all the splendid stuff he listens to at work occasionally with FULL KNOWLEDGE that I can't get any of it on this rubbishly dial-up connection. Bleh. Anyway. High speed = *TWIRLS*