. . . divisadero by Michael Ondaatje. You must read this book. There is no excuse to not read this book. This book will change your life. It may even do your taxes and finish the laundry.
This is the second week of class, the first full week, the week of never ending changes to my roster. More want to add than want to drop. A nice problem to have, the downside being the complete and utter lack of chairs. Whatever. We can still have wonderful conversations if we must sit on the floor. So far, class is going swimmingly.
And now that I've established what type of teaching semester it is going to be, I am excited to see how my writing is going to go. Jack Myers, our visiting professor for the semester, will soon be in town, and the writing will be on. The critical look at what the heck my poems are actually doing. What are they doing anyway? Sitting in my hard drive, napping.
It is raining here, the remnants of Fay, and there are sirens galore outside. I can only imagine what sort of car crash has ensued with this rain. It is madness out there. Office hours seem trivial today. . . but we'll see. The cats are all reposing themselves on the bed and even the dogs seem tuckered out with the weather.
I'm reading a biography on Henry VIII. What I find most interesting is the amount of detail about daily life the author has put in. All the stuff you secretly want to know but most textbooks won't hint at - how did Henry use the bathroom? Did they eat with forks? How on earth could Henry afford to feed his household of 1000 folks? What the heck does the Queen do all day? Super interesting stuff. Not a time period my hygiene loving soul would have wanted to live in. Especially considering the kitchen conditions and what they ate. It feels good to be reading some history as a change to all the novels I've been consuming.
More thunder . . . what a good reading in bed day.
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