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The hourglass has no more grains of sand,
little red grains of sand...

I would bathe in Glenn Tilbrook's voice if I could.

I can't sleep again. This is an ugly pattern. I just ordered a copy of Jim's play, _Serpent Kills_. That should be interesting.

I read a Virginia Woolf essay and tried to read some of it aloud to Kirsten, but she would have none of it. Never mind the fact that she was trying, at the time, to carry on a conversation with me about our favourite books and authors. The essay was ABOUT books and reading. It was wonderful. But she would have none of it, like I said.

I was telling her that erin was reading Madeleine L'Engle's A Small Rain, which is one of my favourite books, and Kirsten said she had never read it. Luckily, I had a copy of it next to my bed, and gave it to her to look through. She read a page or so, flipped through it, and said she found it boring.
"That's because no one gets killed on the first page." Well, I was annoyed. It's one of my favourite books, don'tcha know. "You're not READING it, you're flipping through looking for the bloody bits." This was perhaps unfair of me, but I was still irritated about the Virginia Woolf thing.
She then criticized me for reading "too many white authors".
"I don't READ authors!" I shouted. "I read BOOKS!"
"Then you read too many books by white authors."
"The skin colour of an author is not a factor in my decision whether or not to read their book!" I said. "You're calling me a racist." At this point I was just looking for an argument, and she wasn't biting. I accused her of only reading Toni Morrison and vampire novels, which she defended herself against nicely, and rolled over and went to sleep.

Next time I'm looking for an argument, I'll look for Michael Palin. (I wonder if HE'S read The Small Rain. (Do you know, the Virginia Woolf essay, by pure coincidence, quoted the poem from which aforementioned book derives its title? I was excited by this coincidence. Kirsten mocked my excitement. This was probably deserved. {g}

Western wind, when wilt thou blow
the small rain down can rain?
Christ, if my love were in my arms
and I in my bed again!

My bed. Damn, I wish I could sleep...

Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:40 AM | shower me with attention