changes

Today's already beginning dreary. The house is starting to get cold enough to light the pilot on the heater and burn out all the dead insects who've come to rest in that dark belly of a place. So long. Try again. At least the coffee seems to be giving something hopeful up to me this morning. Quelling the slight but incessant throbbing in my head: the leftovers of a good time.

There was a month of fiery happiness. Then six kinked years of suffering.

Annie Proulx, The Shipping News.

I just devoured the first two trades of Jeph Loeb's (I think, though I'm too lazy to get up and look, now) The Ultimates and the first two issues of Alex Ross's Justice, all of which are heartily recommended. I'm now reading The Shipping News, which so far is like some kind of mariner's hymn in novel form. Fucking gorgeous. And I've recently completed Americana by Hampton Sides, a great collection of essays on sort of the very small, unwound things that make our country what it is. The beating pulse everyone ignores. From swerve of shore to bend of bay.

And as always, hello to you.