dreams and rape novels and sports

last night d and i went to green apple and i bought a bunch of books. as it turned out all of them ended up being true stories. memoirs and such. this was an accident.

we went to dinner nearby at Q and my dessert was a grilled banana with buttloads of whip cream. now, i don't have much of a sweet tooth....that left me in my mid twenties. but god damn that grilled banana was tasty.

my foodbaby was of gigantic proportions when we left and i ended up at his place, he snoozing. me reading. and i know i only read for about an hour last night and then on the bus to work and at lunch and i'm already almost done.

it's a book about a woman's experience having been raped at 18. it's honest and stark and has a sense of humor and i feel simultaneously punched in the gut and a little awe struck and respectful.

and it makes me wonder... if we *truly* write what we know. really truly know. and feel. even if it *isn't* horribly dark like the subject of rape. .. how can we help but create something powerful.

on another topic. i like hockey. i think hockey is an awesomefly fun (awesomefly?) spectator sport.

but most sports...unless engaged in them, i find boring. but i get a strange pang of charm when i see somebody else transfixed by a baseball game. i let them be. i eat my food silently and go into my own head. because... whatever. if something gives you that much joy, by all means...indulge.

i'm having physical reactions to this book.

and i had a dream that i was trying to get from california to new york in a canoe. using waterways. in 24 hours. i got tangled up somewhere aroudn tennessee.

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