"the tug of sleep" -- ralphy e.
the boys downstairs are not so great at playing jerry lee lewis-type tunes, but they try, past midnight, and i'm lame to be so annoyed at their lack of success with the keyboard. besides, i'm not sleeping.
almost 600 pages later, i gave ralph ellison my weekend (invisible man), and i'm glad, though i didn't expect to be learning up on apparent descriptions of the communist party in the 50s under the name of 'the brotherhood.'
and now toni morrison is writing in seasons instead of chapters (the bluest eye). she is one of those imagery-throwers who can miraculously turn ordinary daily living into something so awe-striking in words. the woman's brain needs to be hugged, quite frankly.
i'm thinking that there is no mistake
in the fact that we exist in the background.