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Everybody Else Has Got Some Place To Go...


Bought this:

Because I'd read this:

Which I also bought because Mo was with me and I didn't own it although I had read it. I just told her Roiban AND awesome!

And this:

Which I expect to love because I always love E. Bear.

Also these...

I think I'm having a consumerist moment because I'm shrinking (I was uncomfortable in bed the other night and realized it was because my underwear were too big.) and it's sorta freaking me out, I guess... or I just felt like buying some stuff... I also made some poor food choices, I had fries at five guys - and a peanut butter cookie from a batch Mo made because she makes the best f'ing peanut butter cookies in the world.

I also wrote this:

12. Nar Song of Colour
Give me in hand her crystal laugh
Her bitter tears of blues and greys.
Break me in half her green mirth
Spread it out before a sky that glows.

and this:

17. Green Sarabande
Give me a
Sunny day
Down by the sea.
Make me his
Dearest shine
greenest for me.

Two Chapter Headers IN ONE DAY! I'm like a golden god, plus, there are people who are Green in this book - in the sun. Yes. I know! Look:

Durrell watches Erant as she sees it all for the first time. Noticing things he's forgotten to notice for so long. The castle above them; ramparts and parapets, flying buttresses and stretches of opaque and clear crystal, not hewn, not masoned, organic, a castle that grew into being.

"It was made for us." He told her and so was the first to break their silence.

"By the flame?" Erant asked him, not looking away from the beauty of it all, not wasting a glance at the merely mortal Song Warden beside her.

"Some whisper that it has fallen in love with us." He did whisper, and even that was luminous, it was always his voice that could reach through barriers. And so she turned to accept him into her view.

"Why whisper?" And she couldn't help it. She whispered, standing in sunshine and beauty.

"It might hear and punish our vanity." He smiled. And although she could have resisted it, she did not, and smiled in return. But then her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows were drawn together.

"You're green," she said, still whispering. He laughed.

"It’s the sun. It's very faint for me, I've lived in Drayven since I was three. You should see Christoph, he fairly glows green in the sun, he lived in Wilden all his life before he came here."

"The Green Men." There is enough awe in her voice that he doesn't take offense, not even when her hand comes up of its own volition and touches his cheek.

And, of course, the Nar - who can't see color:

The color that to them was so foreign, that did not even exist. He could only use words and numbers to make the shape of it. Transmuted into something else, they could almost see, almost understand, but only on their own terms. That was why they were so fascinating to some, so frustrating to others. Mal wished, sometimes fervently that he could just see it, see a color and then even if he never saw it again, he would know if he had transmuted it properly, clearly. Sometimes, he didn't think it was too much to ask, and other times, he clearly saw the impossibility of it.

But, he thought he was good at it. He thought he not only could grasp it but turn it into the conversation his tribe could follow. The Nars that lived with him, with the hue mans, thought so, he could speak of them and see the spark in their eyes, the nodding of understanding as he had struggled to amass a common language that could be relied upon to explain the hue that made up the man.

So in sing song and other quiet underlay that the Nar used amongst themselves, he told them a story, and tried to explain the color of it. And his tribe listened, murmuring and silent, shown and unshown, as he wove the shapes together with the words and the math to make a simulacrum of color for them.

I KNOW! I just need to finish it!!!!! It's so freaking close, so close, and almost really good. I'm probably going to be very giddy and crazy here for a bit as I end it. Sorry.

Friday I start a road trip to Orlando, then Chicago (or Schaumberg, ya know...), then Atlanta.

I leave you with this song I've been listening to a lot:

By America - via a Crows cover...

Well I tried to make it Sunday, but I got so damn depressed
That I set my sights on Monday and I got myself undressed
I ain't ready for the altar but I do agree theres times
When a woman sure can be a friend of mine

Well, I keep on thinkin' bout you, sister golden hair surprise
And I just cant live without you; cant you see it in my eyes?
I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find
But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind

Will you meet me in the middle, will you meet me in the air?
Will you love me just a little, just enough to show you care?
Well I tried to fake it, I don't mind sayin, I just cant make it


Sep. 17th, 2009 05:35 pm (UTC)
Better than Jazz hands!

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