August Time, Katie, and the City
I've decided that Light in August is one of the worst books ever written. Sure, it's a classic, but that doesn't mean it's good. It reminds me of Hemingway, but that's not a compliment when it comes from my side of the table. I'm sorry, but when prose is so dry it tastes like sawdust in the mouth, I'm not much of a fan.
I haven't been feeling my best, as it were. The old dog of loneliness has reared its ugly head once again, but not so mangy as before, thank the skies; I'm actually telling my close friends how I feel for once.
On a sidenote, I've just realized that Halloween could be construed as more charitable than Christmas: and how can this be? On Christmas, we confine ourselves to our families, but on Halloween we give without bias. Huh. Why can't we be kind, jolly and giving every day of the year? Are our hearts so small?
Kate and I have gotten back in touch recently, to my immense pleasure.
There's not a word yet, for old friends, who've just met.
Part heaven, part space, or have I, found my place?
You can just visit, but I plan to stay.
I'm going to go back there someday.
~Gonzo from The Muppet Movie
I've realized that there are a few in my life with whom I have needed no introduction, and a place of which I have had introduction since birth; an enormous city full of life, heartbeat and breath. It is where I will live in my future, with those similar souls of the past.