(no subject)
So I found out that Diana Wynne Jones was dead around, mmm, 10 pm, in my time zone. Cried pretty damn hard. Broke the news on Facebook. Swore. Then moved on to other tabs.
It's 5 am now. I can't sleep. I spent most of the last 7 hours reading fanfiction, starting over on my reversebang, catching up on my flist, watching youtube videos. Stuff like that. Then I shut my laptop, moved to turn off the lights and go to sleep. Spotted 'The Crown Of Dalemark' on my floor, picked it up, flipped through it, put it on my bed next to my pillow to read when I woke up. Turned off the lights. Didn't get to sleep (obviously).
I had a long conversation with myself and Diana Wynne Jones, in the dark. It consisted mostly of confessions. That there were books of hers that I'd never read, books that I'd meant to read, meant to scour the library or the bookstore for, but just. didn't. Wanting to find my lost copy of 'A Tale Of Time City' and reread it. Admitting that I hadn't liked 'Hexwood' and 'Dogsbody' very much, but I'd skimmed both of them. Confessing that I hadn't read 'Charmed Life' in years and could only barely recall the names of Chrestomanci's kids. That 'Fire And Hemlock' was beautiful. That 'The Merlin Conspiracy' was thoroughly enjoyable and ridiculously long and still fabulous and that I wish I had found 'Deep Secret' so I could know more. That 'The Magicians Of Caprona' was my very favourite of the Chrestomanci books and my copy is in disgusting condition and I should replace it and...
I was honest in that conversation. I shared with her shade things that I don't often say out loud. Things that I don't normally even admit to myself alone inside my head. And I laughed, a little hysterically, that I had written an obituary for Frank McCourt when I'd only read one of his books and that I wouldn't be writing one for her when I'd read most of hers.
And then I rolled over and tried to go to sleep. And I couldn't and I couldn't and I couldn't and I couldn't, not until I had gotten up and written something, anything, for this amazing person. So. Bye. You were wonderful.
It's 5 am now. I can't sleep. I spent most of the last 7 hours reading fanfiction, starting over on my reversebang, catching up on my flist, watching youtube videos. Stuff like that. Then I shut my laptop, moved to turn off the lights and go to sleep. Spotted 'The Crown Of Dalemark' on my floor, picked it up, flipped through it, put it on my bed next to my pillow to read when I woke up. Turned off the lights. Didn't get to sleep (obviously).
I had a long conversation with myself and Diana Wynne Jones, in the dark. It consisted mostly of confessions. That there were books of hers that I'd never read, books that I'd meant to read, meant to scour the library or the bookstore for, but just. didn't. Wanting to find my lost copy of 'A Tale Of Time City' and reread it. Admitting that I hadn't liked 'Hexwood' and 'Dogsbody' very much, but I'd skimmed both of them. Confessing that I hadn't read 'Charmed Life' in years and could only barely recall the names of Chrestomanci's kids. That 'Fire And Hemlock' was beautiful. That 'The Merlin Conspiracy' was thoroughly enjoyable and ridiculously long and still fabulous and that I wish I had found 'Deep Secret' so I could know more. That 'The Magicians Of Caprona' was my very favourite of the Chrestomanci books and my copy is in disgusting condition and I should replace it and...
I was honest in that conversation. I shared with her shade things that I don't often say out loud. Things that I don't normally even admit to myself alone inside my head. And I laughed, a little hysterically, that I had written an obituary for Frank McCourt when I'd only read one of his books and that I wouldn't be writing one for her when I'd read most of hers.
And then I rolled over and tried to go to sleep. And I couldn't and I couldn't and I couldn't and I couldn't, not until I had gotten up and written something, anything, for this amazing person. So. Bye. You were wonderful.