imaginarycircus

My mom gave me The Gashly Crumb Tinies when I was in fifth grade. Other Gorey books followed. The Glorious Nosebleed. Amphigorey. Amphigorey Too. Amphigorey Also. The Dwindling Party (which is the most awesome pop up book ever). I think it all started with Gorey's illustrated edition of Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, by T.S. Elliot and of course we loved his animated intro to Mystery on PBS. And although no one ever ever calls me Kate, because that's what my mother called me when she was pissed at me--I'm always Katie. Except that K is for Kate who was struck with an axe. (Still better than Xerxes who was devoured by mice.)

I'm at the coffee shop. I took a shower today. When my mood is this depressed and I'm getting less than four hours sleep a night (even with ambien) these things are minor miracles.

We're getting snow flurries and they're so pretty, but only because I never have to shovel a driveway or worry about streets not getting ploughed, or drive in snow anymore.

My birthday is coming soon and it will be my 39th. The last year of my 30s. I want it to mark some kind of turning point--the next year, but it's as likely to be as arbitrary a point in space-time as any other.