now reading

"It was an effort for me now to recall the details of my grief -- the exact forms it had taken - although at will I could summon up an echo of it, like a small whining dog locked in the cellar. What had I done on the day Mother died? I could hardly remember that, or what she'd really looked like: now she looked only like her photographs. I did remember the wrongness of her bed when she was suddenly no longer in it: how empty it had seemed. The way the afternoon light came slantwise in through the window and fell so silently across the hardwood floor, the dust motes floating in it like mist. The smell of beeswax furniture polish, and of wilted chrysanthemums, and the lingering aroma of bedpan and disinfectant. I could remember her absence, now, much better than her presence."
--Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin

Dear Ms Atwood: How are you so good? Oh my God.

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nanowrimo 2010

37,090 / 50,000 words. 74% done!

On other news: Just reached 37k in my Nano attempt, and for the first time in 22 days I felt I'd actually be sad if I lost this file to Word runtime errors. (Backups)

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On other, other news: MONTH 38 TODAYYYYY. ♥