Cleaning out the mental refrigerator

[pameladean]

Um, wow. Sometime between Mike's death and the memorial service, my brains fried themselves up and went about trying to pass themselves off as breakfast at truck stops. Luckily they don't seem to have had any takers and are back home now, albeit somewhat stuck about with bits of garlic and green pepper.

The book is not going so well, but I hope to remedy that very soon now.

I am not completely overjoyed at the results of the elections (too bloody many anti-gay amendments, Pawlenty's still here, and, God forgive us, Minnesota has sent Michelle Bachman to the House of Representatives to spew her hateful lunacy all over what's left of the Constitution. (I realized yesterday that I have been spelling her name wrong, but I've decided to continue doing it. She doesn't deserve a double consonant.) As I was saying, not completely overjoyed, but so profoundly relieved that it's having many of the same effects. I keep wandering about saying, "We got the Senate. Speaker Pelosi. San Francisco values, ha-ha, you campaigning cowards who thpught that those were Bad Bad Words that should have scared voters. A good dose of those a lot earlier would have prevented a whole raft of evils."

It took a few days for those statements to actually come out of my mouth. David and Lydy and I attended a small and very pleasant election party, the main events of which were chili and a showing of the movie "Bob Roberts," which is compellingly strange and quietly scary, but also hilarious. I was also given a really beautiful hair clip by a kindly friend. I didn't know what it was at first, but since it would have been equally beautiful whether it was a brooch or a bracelet or a hair thing, I'm not sure that matters. The main part is a blue dragonfly, and there's a smaller pendant one as well. The clip part is magnetic, which delights me immeasurably. It won't break, it doesn't pull hair out, and it's just cool.

It's late fall now. The juncoes and starlings are here in force, the bluejays are screaming, and it's easier to see woodpeckers and nuthatches on the bare trees. The day after Mike's memorial, some of us went to a friend's house in the country, and I got to see tufted titmice for the first time, or the first time when I was able to identify them. They look like miniature cardinals in buff color. Asters are still blooming, and a few stubborn snapdragons, but the weather of the next few days will probably finish them. The Norway maples dropped half their leaves on Hallowe'en afternoon, necessitating emergency raking so that kids wouldn't break their legs. The cunning trees then dropped most of the rest of the leaves a few days later, and I mowed them up. The grass is still green. Yesterday was almost hot, but the change is coming. The light is beautiful in the afternoons. Everything looks tidy and larger than life.

I finally recalled that I can play music on my new computer, and in a perverse mood put in the actual CD of the Oyster Band's "The Shouting End of Life," rather than finding it on the music server. I'm a little intimidated by the music server. Anyway, I'd forgotten how much of The Dubious Hills was written to the Oyster Band, both that album and whatever the one is that has the Cornish Six-Hand Reel on it. I'm hoping this will help with Going North. The Secret Country books weren't mostly written to music, though by the time I was wrestling with Whim, I was sharing an office with David and we had a five-CD changer, so it must have been written to something or the other.

I have been glad to know how all of you are keeping, even though my commenting has been erratic.

P.

Comments

[timprov.livejournal.com]

I realized yesterday that I have been spelling her name wrong, but I've decided to continue doing it. She doesn't deserve a double consonant.

On the other hand, the nice flower people probably don't deserve the association. (Also, you've given her a double consonant she doesn't come with; it's Michele.)

[chaoticgoodnik.livejournal.com]

I propose that she doesn't deserve to have her name spelled properly. ;)

[thorintatge.livejournal.com]

On the other hand, some people might consider expressing one's displeasure for a politician by arbitrarily misspelling her name to be, itself, an act of hateful lunacy.

[swan-tower.livejournal.com]

I've been meaning to ask -- are you familiar with Metallica's song "Sad But True?" Because it invariably makes me think of The Dubious Hills. "I'm your eyes when you must steal/I'm your pain when you can't feel" -- it always makes me think of the Kallosi and the Physici.

[clindau.livejournal.com]

And what was up with MB's costume on Wednesday morning? Did she think she'd been elected Homecomeing Queen? No wait, her husband probably dressed her. She does love her pearls. So June Cleaver-y.

I take some comfort knowing that she'll be in the minority party, so she'll be somewhat less of a threat. Also in two years when she's running for re-election, the scales will have hopefully fallen from the eyes of the district and she'll get bounced out.

We should go out for lunch someday soon.

[inlaterdays.livejournal.com]

I keep trying to think of something helpful to say, but sometimes there's just nothing. It's strange the way a sudden event can drive life right off the rails for a time.

We have a lot of oaks around here. I kind of like the way they hang on to most of their brown leaves through the winter, though I love the maples' gorgeous last hurrah of color, too.

[dsgood.livejournal.com]

I remember when "homosexuality is a mental illness" was the liberal position. And the times when the Massachusets courts would have rejected as frivolous any case for same-sex marriage were -- ten years ago, maybe.

and I'm allergic to green peppers...

[gypsy1969.livejournal.com]

Ick garlic and green pepper bits in the brain...
I guess the good news is that your brains are back albeit a little worse for wear.

Our leaves are going too, all at once. Today it was warm and everyone was raking so I stayed inside. Raking leaves = mold = bronchitis, which I don't need more of what I have already.

I should look up this music you mention, it is new to me. Of course of late I haven't been listening to much. I'm too wrapped up in getting my own head back on straight.

[sartorias.livejournal.com]

Tbhe overload at the dayslog has been horrendous, but yesterday's multiple bits of good news jazzed me enough to keep me jamming for the solid sixteen hours needed for the chores that day. And I went to bed smiling.

[baldanders.livejournal.com]

I can't rewatch Bob Roberts. It was way too believable, in a way that movie political fables usually aren't (Bulworth, say).

[rysmiel.livejournal.com]

Don't think I could watch it again now either. Wag the Dog is right on the edge.

[roadnotes.livejournal.com]

I am glad that you're still writing, and looking at the world, and that beautiful things are coming to you. And for what it's worth, while I value your comments, in many ways I'd rather know that there's another book coming, and that you're living your life happily.

[mplsvala.livejournal.com]

"my brains fried themselves up and went about trying to pass themselves off as breakfast at truck stops"

Ook. Ook. I know that feeling.

Yet another yeah?

[markiv1111.livejournal.com]

I'm with roadnotes all the way. Also, though, the idea of discussing what music one is listening to while writing fiction makes my nerves jangle just a bit. If I am writing fiction at all, I *have* to have total silence or as close to it as this household permits, otherwise the music will take over and I won't be able to write at all. And you and I are so totally in agreement about Michele Bachmann.

Nate