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Winter reading notes
Today I finished reading Mary, by Mary Wollstonecraft. To be honest I found it lacking. The ending was poignant but the whole novel felt somehow incomplete. I understand its significance in terms of the Age of Reason school of thought giving way to the Romantic, in which emotions take prevalence over order. I recall reading… Continue reading
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Let’s go over the shopping … (this week)
JoAnn McCalls’ little red riding hood pattern McCalls’ flower fairy pattern cross stitch thread to finish my cardigan … blah jewelry fixings to do my jewelry … etc. brown rooster fabric, 3 yds St. Vincent dePaul vintage long brown skirt with black flowers, $3.50 an old and extremely dirty porcelain doll in a brown lace… Continue reading
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Jury duty today!
Now sitting in the meeting room watching a video about juries. They showed a clip from To Kill a Mockingbird. I had to take off my shoes and coat for the X Ray. Some people said they wished they were at the airport going somewhere. Yes! No matter what happens I get super treats and… Continue reading
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My Christine Feehan reading list
I am so behind on my Christine Feehans. I got started with these in college when Dark Fire came out. I saw that cover art and couldn’t resist, it was so gorgeous. Because it was my first one, it will always be special, and to be honest, I haven’t read one quite like it since.… Continue reading
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Katherine Sutcliffe’s books
I have felt this great obsession lately with Katherine Sutcliffe’s books, with my fragmented, faded high school memories of all of her books. Her books have an intensity I long to study. I feel like maybe before I wasn’t ready to go deep with emotions the way she did. I couldn’t identify with those intense… Continue reading
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Stranger
(Written last Wednesday.) I keep trying to express my feelings, but they only grow stranger. A tangled web of longing and horror, a three-fold reaction to my surroundings, my life and all that I am. It is such an intense thing I am feeling, oh, I wish I could get it out. I am stifled… Continue reading
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Mary Shelley’s version
…is far more erotic than mine. I bow to a master. Continue reading
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“Here’s what really happens…” (Excerpt from The Last Man, by Mary Shelley)
Everything favoured my journey. The balloon rose about half a mile from the earth, and with a favourable wind it hurried through the air, its feathered vans cleaving the unopposing atmosphere. Notwithstanding the melancholy object of my journey, my spirits were exhilarated by reviving hope, by the swift motion of the airy pinnace, and the… Continue reading
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Sunlight-Colored Roses 