Well oops. I've become a home-loving, embroidery learning, novel reading hermit. And I've neglected everything but writing poetry and reading old novels. Recently, I find myself staring blankly at people whenever they try to conduct a conversation with me. As though I can't figure out why they would do such a thing. Or what is an appropriate thing to say in response. Or really, what the hell they're talking about and why I'm not at home enjoying a good book and a cup of tea. I'm turning into that girl that was raised by wolves and has no idea how to conduct herself with people. Only I don't eat raw meat. Or pee on the shrubs. And as much as I would have like to have been, wasn't raised by wolves. So I have no good excuse. Except that I keep hoping this is maybe just a reflex of having been insanely over social in Tokyo for the last two years, so now my mind and my body are like... stay home! learn how to embroider! Write poems in a Texan accent with random Japanese onomatopoeia! Yes, thank you, brain. What a great idea. Then I can alienate everyone and increase my caffeine addiction. Oh well, this is a happy time. The Edinburgh weather is a weeee bit dreary, but spring planting is only a month away! Turnips and carrots and squash, oh my! And shiso and chamomile and lavender! At least the snow drifts are gone, and hiking and bicycling are now possible again! And walking without slipping and brushing death every two steps. Excuse me death, it's just these damn feet, they don't seem to want to take orders! Sorry if I keep grabbing your robe to steady myself, it's nothing personal, really.
In other news, I have been notified that I have won a Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg prize. Well hot damn. I had forgotten I even entered stuff. I will find out on Friday what this officially means. Until then, I hold my breath and try to keep from doing a little happy dance. So that when Friday comes, I'll have all this suppressed energy that will explode into a BIG happy dance, possibly accompanied by song! And the hugging of random people on the street.
Oh and did I mention that Borges is doing that thing again, where he pops up in really random places? He's been showing himself in all manner of bizarre places over the past few days, and to finish the night, I discover I'm NOT THE ONLY ONE with this weird problem.
2 comments:
Too fall on the ice
Is not very nice.
Wait for the sun
For happiness sum.
I hope your prize
Is a considerable size.
A well written piece. I enjoyed reading. Thank you. Take care. Bye.
Borges, Borges, everywhere!
Here's another one: I was drinking a Tsingtao last night as I read Borges. I was thinking about how much I like Tsingtao and proceeded to have a conversation about it with a friend. THEN came across a sentence in "Garden of Forking Paths" where the character is said to be from--wait for it--Tsintao.
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