busted!
yesterday, after telling Bitter Half for the fifteen hundredth time that i needed to start working on my novel, he said, 'don't you say that every day? and then you never do.' my response? 'i know, but it kinda seems like i'm working on it if i keep talking about it, right?' of course, the only person i'm hurting with my lies is myself. that is until i am in a cold-sweat panic on the last week of class and resort to beating everyone around me. i need a club to make those beatings most effective. ebay, here i come!
posted by christine on Tuesday, March 27, 2007
1 Comments:
Everything begins and ends on an island that dances between calmness and turmoil. Here and now on the island of Minorca, the still night stretches itself groomed by a melodic flow of spoken whispers, shouting secrets, and by the wind that makes thousands of stars twinkle with a ravenous hunger of admiration, desire, and oath. This is the wind that governs the Minorcans when they nestle next to the fire so as not to fly inland with the salt, or when they lean out over the cliffs, wanting to fly out to sea like one angel. A wind that offers this dance at odd times on terraces with the name of an insolent woman in vein, is called tramontana.
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