I started off the morning crying, as one does when one works from home and does not need to explain anything to anybody in a neighboring cubicle. I also wear sweatpants! and a flannel cardigan with two buttons missing, upon which I wiped my poor leaky eyes. Get this: last night I was explaining to my friend over I think the eleventyth glass of wine that one of my many superpowers is the ability to make my friends cry. And then this morning I made mySELF cry! Truly we have traveled down a road and back again.
Then I got a letter from the translator that I did the Castles book with, back in the day, and he told me how I was awesome, and then my day brightened considerably. Mood swing dancing: It is not for the faint-hearted.
I listened to 80s radio today while I did all the clever things that fill my day. I don't usually listen to the radio because it is very difficult to cut a dangling modifier free when one is pondering the depths of Bronski Beat at top volume, but today I decided I deserved it. While I don't want to crow "those were the days, back when lyrics meant something" in the key of my dad, when I realize perfectly well that I come from the decade that brought you "mama say mama sa mama koosa" (though, to be fair, even that MEANT SOMETHING), I nevertheless feel like my attempts to enjoy the music of Kids These Days are sort of falling flat: I always go back to the Music of My Youth because I think it's objectively better. Hey that was a long sentence. I'm just talking about radio music, here, in case that's not obvious.
I finished Kavalier & Clay, much to the relief of everybody around me. Man, I hated that book. I want somebody to explain to me how it got such accolades, and I also want to never talk about it again.
Squire is back in school and it's going okay so far. He's also restarting his Christian youth group and oh yeah that's another way I'm awesome. I kind of want to talk about it but I feel like it's a whole Parenting Philosophy thing and it just becomes exhausting to think about. My day is considerably better than how it started, but I'm nowhere near being ready to write something thoughtful. I've got a good thing on the burner, though.
I was considering reading that book, in spite of its annoying title, until I read the Best Short Stories of whatever year had Michael Chabon as the editor. Turns out he has bad taste in more than just book titles.
Posted by: Corbin | September 15, 2009 at 04:25 PM