I wore my long sweater today, hoping i might need it. It was cool enough this morning with the coming autumn that it made sense, but the day warmed up rapidly. It was cold enough in the office what with the arctic AC blowing on me all day, but now that I'm back on the train going home, i'm filled with regrets. Somehow I always manage in the car that has no AC. It always happens. Fortunately, it can also function as a traveling sauna. Good for your pores, etc. It can be nice... especially since I'm guaranteed a seat.
I finished another book today. Finally a book that felt like I had written it. I feel like I grew as a person with it, page by page. Sure, the book is 40 years old or so, but it's full of timeless/timelesseque themes and scenes and dialogue. It made sense to me. I feel like if my grandmother read it she would get it, but my mother wouldn't. Like it skips a generation. Like balding. My father would hate it.
But it's a book for women, anyway, really. The men who venture into it may feel as if they're suddenly confronted with too much information. Like that little instructions booklet that comes in your box of tampons. The prize in the cereal box. I'm not sure yet what I'm going to take from the novel and leave behind in the ink. I wish I could take all of it. But I am not Isadora née Erica. I am not as desperate as she, nor as well-travelled. But there's enough of me in it to take away. Like a new skin. Reversal of shedding. The adding on of a layer. Appropriate for the coming autumn.
