Friday, December 11, 2009

sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we

I love Christmas carols, particularly publicly sung ones. Even when sung by a lonely, generally ignored Salvation Army bell-ringer, having the music in common makes me happy every time. I love the pageantry of holidays and Christmas particularly offers itself up to this. There is something beautiful in ritual, in repetition.

this year, for example:
- there will be lumps of coal in everyone's stocking
- there will be cookies (caramel nut slices and pecan dreams at the very least)
- there will be a strata flecked with sun-dried tomatoes and broccoli for Christmas morning
- this year there will be brandy and eggnog while we clean out my mother's room

For me, however, my special treat is literature like a down comforter:

"We lie together, skin close enough for grafting. When I kiss you, I give you all the words that room in the roof of my mouth. When you kiss me, you give me the shape of silence."

Oh, Jeanette Winterson, how lovely!

I wrote 1642 words yesterday. That makes 2601 words this week. I don't think I'll actually feel pleased with my progress, however, until I have a passed proposal. Until then, I don't know that any of the work I'm doing is any good, or if it is truly progress.

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