tavie.com

Today was spring cleaning and shopping and preparing for Easter Feast. My family arrives at Mint Manor at one tomorrow.

My world is very small, not very interesting-- but I like it.

Gina got me yellow and blue gingham curtains for my room for my Easter present (I got her a Spongebob jelly lolly), and we made throw pillow covers of different coloured gingham for my bed. My room is very pretty: mild primary colours, mostly blues and yellows.

Very small, not very interesting, but like I said.

Do you know, if someone asked me my favourite author, I'd still have to say Madeleine L'Engle? And then if they said, "Who else?", I'd have trouble because I'd leave so many out? I'd say, "Kurt Vonnegut, John Irving, um..." and then I'd spend the rest of the day thinking of more and slapping my forehead. And there'd be a distressing number of children's authors in there? But the three that always come to mind are L'Engle, Vonnegut and Irving. And you know what that is? Boring. I guess I'm boring. And also, my sister would say, overly attached to whitey-mcwhiteson authors. (And then the old "I don't read authors, I read books and I don't choose the books according to skin colour" argument would come up again. I'm so tired of that one. Not everyone has to like Toni Morrison; The. End.) But, yeah. Children's authors.

And I'll tell you something else: Stephen King, goddammit. That's right-- I said it! Stephen Fucking King.

...

Well, that all came out of nowhere.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:40 PM | shower me with attention