Life’s too short to read crappy books, especially fiction. And that’s my assessment of Tom Robbins’ Half Asleep in Frog Pajamas. Sorry, Tom. I love your work, except this. The second-person perspective is jarring, and I just could not find anything remotely likeable about the main character whom I was supposed to “be” as I read. I gave it two chapters, which is reasonable, don’t you think? Now that I no longer feel some illogical obligation to finish every book I start, your book has been returned to the bookstore. I bought Kristin Gore’s Sammy’s Hill instead. I heard it was funny. It is.
More vials of blood will be drawn this morning for the doctor. The bleeding continues and I no longer feel the Hunger (the desperate intense NEED to eat), so I’m pretty sure what the outcome will be. Yet life’s too short to mope. I feel siezed by sadness, but I also was able to find contentment making art. I am alive, healthy, and actively creative in many ways. I’m still here, and I will embrace this — the sadness and anger and loss and the joy and pleasure and interaction.
My husband is taking me to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Ooo, a date. Perhaps we’ll go out to dinner afterward. Then I’ll settle into a hot bath and my good books in the evening. Toodles, people.
Keeping you and your husband in my thoughts. Sending healing energy your way. Sounds like you are doing good things to take care of yourself.
Best wishes.
Talk about jarring. Your art today has so much emotion. Very effective! The intensity is at once disturbing and beautiful. The mark of a REAL artist.
You’re in my thoughts and prayers.
I, too, am holding good thoughts for you. And I’m right with you on reaching a stage of life where I’ve let go of my silly compulsion to finish every book, even if I’m not enjoying it.