If I should die, let this be my epitaph: his only proof for the existence of God was music.
Things keeping Karen sane week ending 30/08/2008 –
• The boy. Because he always knows what to say.
• The Mountain Goats touring.
• Pictures of my house. Our house.
• Discussions about shelves in said house. Yes – discussions about shelves, and packing, and washing machines and moving, are joy to me right now.
• Certain rumours about certain wolf-related bands.
• My kitty. He’s patient and brave and he knows he’s still the best kitty in the world. Even with the imposters.
So, I’ve been reading Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut. It’s been a really long time since I’ve been so taken with a book. For a story centering around death and war, it’s had a seriously uplifting effect on my state of mind. So it goes.
First, it makes we want to write. And write really well. And right now I have no time for any of that writing nonsense. 12 hour days are slowly (actually, probably quite quickly) atrophying my brain.
But yes. I want to write.
Second, I’ve been doing that thing that I always do when I stumble upon something I love – I obsess about it. Not one to do things by halves, I’ve read the Wikipedia entry and looked at all the fan sites I could and read every obituary there was when he died on April 11, 2007. One day after my 30th birthday. Pretty much around the time that the wind got behind me and blew me into a million and one amazing directions.
And he was honestly the most amazing person. And clearly one of the most sensible people to have ever lived on this fucked up planet. And I’m a little sad that I didn’t understand the genius while the man was still alive.
Today was a day that felt like defeat. Through most of it I felt a hammer coming down on my head, regular as a metronome, to ensure I stayed nice and bogged down in metaphorical crap. I was alternately angry and close to tears.
But if you look hard enough there’s golden light. Or if you’re lucky enough, someone reminds you.