The fog came down in the night and coated everything with starry white lichen. It’s as if it got physical on us. Every winter-killed blade of grass, every pebble, every stripped and stiff bush is limned in frozen fog. The fog stuck around to greet the morning too, smothering the world. Your eyes play tricks on you as you drive through the fog. You expect the world ends over and over. It’s as if the world is creating itself as the car advances, the negatives of trees loom like transparencies.
Get Out. I’m the Boss of My Ideas. They’re Not the Boss of Me: The Meme Explained
I galloped through Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere yesterday. All I could think as I slugged it down was, why hasn’t anyone made a movie out of this yet?! So, I went and looked it up on IMDB and it turns out someone has, sort of. It was a British mini-series back in 1996. Now I’m wondering if it was anywhere near as good as the book.
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How do you handle other people’s pain? Is there ever a time when it gets easier hearing that someone you care about, even if you don’t know them well, is staggering under the weight of heartbreak? There are people on the fringes of my life who are going through major personal nightmares: divorce, separation, illness, impending deaths of loved ones. Anders and I are worrying about how to pay for both a trip home to the States this summer and getting the garage finished. I feel so small. There should be compassion classes in high school or college where you can learn the right things to say and the right things to do. How to help others. How to make them feel better. How to stay out of the way. How to listen.