A Reprise

As the new year dawns it becomes clear to me that I want to read my books, take photographs and publish Blanche. I guess it's as simple as that.

I am reading my AGNI collection and I find that the stories fall into a few styles. There are vignettes containing little action and much description, a distinct place/time relevance with a sharply-defined protagonist. They remind me of a very good photograph. Then there are what I think of as the cynical stories. They tend to have a bitter slant, with sex, violence and eye-catching themes like the Holocaust, and I guess they are for the ironic set, a commentary of a society beset with ennui. As you might think, I don't like those stories very much. I love the historical stories and I'm excited to see them. It's interesting to learn more about the small presses and I can't wait to look for some of the novels by these authors. I took a lot of pictures over this holiday and it's been a lot of fun. I seem to have a literal fascination with winter light. Half the photos I take are of windows with cold light streaming through and the other half of vegetation. I loved ta

I like The Importance of Form in Sketching by Matthew Kirby.

The cellar at the Monteleones' house. Baby food jars are suspended from a board along the ceiling to hold nuts and bolts.

Church on Magazine St. The side is covered with tarp during reconstruction.

A scrap metal sculpture in private courtyard.

Ceiling, Cafe Luna on Magazine St.

Gates at Jackson Square.

Calm waters.

Afternoon on the Mississippi river.

A certain slant of light.

The Mississippi river is calm.

Chad's French fry sculpture at Chateau Coffeehouse

I couldn't feel less like Christmas if I was angsting in black nail polish and mourning veils. Not once this season have I felt moved or excited by the bustle, lights or prettiness around me. I took a possessive joy in decorating our home but certainly not a holy one. And when I think of my family far away from me and each other, physically or otherwise, my heart is as dead and cold as a stone in my breast. The one thing that has lifted my spirits is that every day this week I have gotten a book off my Amazon wish list from my dad and Donna, and in January I am going to take these books to the coffee house or under a tree and read them to my heart's content. I really didn't want to suffer postpartum depression over A Raven for a Lark, but I can't deny it any longer. I know when I leave my world that it will be a while before I have the stamina to enter it again. Memories of it come upon me and it's so beautiful I feel sorry for everyon else in the world. Sometimes

The Wild Child, by Rikki Ducornet-- historical in nature, descriptive and evocative, reminds me of Robert Coover and Angela Carter

My new year's resolutions look great! I can't wait to start. The only thing is figuring out how to fit all this stuff in. I'm nixing a couple of things till next year, at least seriously, because I have an unfathomable amount of stuff on my list. You really can't imagine. Last night I was overwhelmed with a desire to sew, and it continued on into today. I didn't because I wanted to finish some Christmas chores, but now I want to figure some sewing into my schedule. I may do it tomorrow since I'm managing pretty well with the chores. The specifics haven't been delineated, but my 2006 activities include: writing--revising, submissions, digital photography--photo editing, photolog and photo print journal, sewing and crafting (just as I'm sitting here now I remember the botany/flower press idea too), cooking--limited to high tea, the only meal I find interesting. I want to make my own tea sandwich recipes and already have lots of ideas. As I'm just now r

I finished Marion Harland's guide tonight and I wonder ceaselessly at two things. 1. She is so down on America! Even more than I am. She complains of things in which I am so well-steeped I could not see them for what they were. In particular, American style and cookery. It is true that our food, which we count as so much more generous in portion than the overseas counterpart, is as coarse and indecorous as it is plentiful, but as an American woman I cast up my hands and declare I would rather spend my time on something else. She makes an interesting point about American women's fashions. In France women wear what looks good on them, and in America women wears what comes off the manufacturing line in the latest style. It is very conformist, and I have to admit I feel it in myself, for I would be embarrassed to wear something that is "out" even if it flattered me better. 2. Harland's other point I feel clearly from last night's experiences. I looked in my journ

Nov. 26. Some electric bass guitars from the Guitar Center

I decided today that I like Christmas well enough. It proves a great challenge, and it is good to face an onslaught of stress. I must fend off rampant materialism and disgust for the Christmas corporate entity. I must think very seriously, just this once, of how to be meaningful to those I love and disregard whatever is not meaningful. I omitted a tier from our Christmas tree and it is much lovelier and less obtrusive. This afternoon I began scanning pictures to enclose in our relatives' Christmas cards. A trip to Hobby Lobby is in order for them and me. Then I have gifts to wrap and more to buy, and cards to mail. I think with each year this will get easier. The thought of having a child now suggests more entropy than I can even imagine. It is almost an hour till lunch and I am so glad. The night has gone somewhat quickly, and I am hungry. I have a book to read and some things to try out with audioblogging, in my office. I had some pink bows left from my Christmas tree long, long