<= 2002.05.06

2002.05.08 =>

it has no color of its own

—but it can make you see rainbows.

The FBI tracks Einstein's death ray by monitoring his garbage.

The comments box has likened me to Edna Pontellier, and this has finally motivated me to take The Awakening off the shelf where it has sat untouched for something over a year. I'm about halfway through it now and, yes, very into it.

There were strange, rare odors abroad—a tangle of the sea smell and of weeds and damp, new-plowed earth, mingled with the heady perfume of a field of white blossoms somewhere near. But the night sat lightly upon the sea and the land. There was no weight of darkness; there were no shadows. The white light of the moon had fallen upon the world like the mystery and the softness of sleep.

Most of them walked into the water as though into a native element. The sea was quiet now, and spread lazily in broad billows that melted into one another and did not break except on the beach in little foamy crests that coiled back like slow, white serpents.

Having grown up without bodies of water, I am now utterly fascinated by them. The lake at Stanford was a totemic place for me, especially at night—you could pilot rafts out into the blackness. Here the river fulfills a similar function. Behind my house a gently arcing bridge crosses it, and when stuck on a story I like to stand at its midpoint, facing the wind. There is also the arboretum along the shore, verdant and secluded.

 

<= 2002.05.06

2002.05.08 =>

up (2002.05)

The Warm South
The Roof Rat Review