Saturday, October 29, 2005

This photo is from our favorite Chinese restaurant, my kids go there mainly b/c there’s a circle in the middle of the table that lets us spin the food to each other. This is almost like dinner theatre to my children. I go there because of a mirror which reflects onto the street and when you look, it feels like we are all in a bowl, which of course we are.

Tis the season of the first book manuscripts: Yale, Breadloaf. Tis the season of me pulling my hair out over “a” and “the”, finding type O’s after reading the bloody thing four hundred times. Tis the season of the mad, the crazy.

Grief is an odd friend…it pushes me to work more on the book b/c I don’t want to think. I can loose myself in my work like nothing else. Yet of course, now being older I know grief waits for me like an old man with a ticket in his pocket, patient for the bus to simply pull over.

We are all in a bowl. The world is funny like that.

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