(no subject)
Jul. 8th, 2005 09:05 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
spokeHere I am, up too late, but at least I have my suspicions confirmed as to why I've been insomniac. Not that it's been much of a moodswing, this time. More going further along where I already was.
Note to self: Chocolate is a necessity. ...at this point, so is pr0n. But I can get that online.
Feeling things shifting inside, rise and sink, float and and fall... I want change, but I can't imagine what except maybe drawing again. I went to looking at my bookshelf to find something for tomorrow, because I feel worn out and dragged down, and I'm tired of trying to pull myself up. Just started pulling down books, pulling the stacks apart to try and find certain things - and I noticed a pattern. All of them about change and loss and the end of worlds; personal worlds, outer ones, sometimes both.
Andre Norton's Janus books, all whispering woods and alien minds.
The Harper Hall books, and holding onto the music against a world of silence.
Shadow World, with all the silence of grief and sorrow at death, and the music of motion, the sound inside a soul that a body makes when it's dancing.
Biting The Sun, that sang to me from its shelf, that made me smile because it was written the year that I was born - that is full of fire and light and broken glass, a cacophony of formless rebellion against nothing that can be named when the worlds gives you everything - except roots, and the continuity of linear lives. Except love that is more than sex, and the simple depth of being surrounded by green and growing things.
The Silver Kiss, the lightest palest whisper that it's okay to be starlight
The Night Watch, and the silent howling of a winter inseperable from the bird-gods/demons that call it home - every singing shrieking caw and call of lost souls that are singing that the end is coming, the dawn is coming, Wake. Up. Sing to the rising sun as the night ends, though your life might not last long enough to see it.
Top Dog - I had almost forgotten I had this one - it is so new, only maybe a couple of years, and the hero is a dog. And a lawyer. But to come to the slow and queasy realization that maybe he is not quite who he thought he wanted to be...
Maybe letting go of trying so hard is not so bad. And maybe I need to write more poetry.
Note to self: Chocolate is a necessity. ...at this point, so is pr0n. But I can get that online.
Feeling things shifting inside, rise and sink, float and and fall... I want change, but I can't imagine what except maybe drawing again. I went to looking at my bookshelf to find something for tomorrow, because I feel worn out and dragged down, and I'm tired of trying to pull myself up. Just started pulling down books, pulling the stacks apart to try and find certain things - and I noticed a pattern. All of them about change and loss and the end of worlds; personal worlds, outer ones, sometimes both.
Andre Norton's Janus books, all whispering woods and alien minds.
The Harper Hall books, and holding onto the music against a world of silence.
Shadow World, with all the silence of grief and sorrow at death, and the music of motion, the sound inside a soul that a body makes when it's dancing.
Biting The Sun, that sang to me from its shelf, that made me smile because it was written the year that I was born - that is full of fire and light and broken glass, a cacophony of formless rebellion against nothing that can be named when the worlds gives you everything - except roots, and the continuity of linear lives. Except love that is more than sex, and the simple depth of being surrounded by green and growing things.
The Silver Kiss, the lightest palest whisper that it's okay to be starlight
The Night Watch, and the silent howling of a winter inseperable from the bird-gods/demons that call it home - every singing shrieking caw and call of lost souls that are singing that the end is coming, the dawn is coming, Wake. Up. Sing to the rising sun as the night ends, though your life might not last long enough to see it.
Top Dog - I had almost forgotten I had this one - it is so new, only maybe a couple of years, and the hero is a dog. And a lawyer. But to come to the slow and queasy realization that maybe he is not quite who he thought he wanted to be...
Maybe letting go of trying so hard is not so bad. And maybe I need to write more poetry.
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(no subject)
Date: 2005-07-09 01:18 am (UTC)What is draining is keeping it up. What's not impossible is starting.
*hugs*