I must confess: movtivation is absent in my life right now. I am not even motivated to find my missing ball of yarn and work on the Clapotis. (Even though the new edition of KNITTY is out, and OH MY what inspiration unfolds...)
Heschel got a little too cerebral for me yesterday morning and I switched over to Everything is Illumniated. This was one of the books Yossi suggested to me during my stay in JTown last week, and it happened to be the third time someone tried to get me to read the book that week. Crazypants. So I picked it up.
During our brief conversation about the book, Yossi said the movie was slightly better---it got to the point. He is right. Movies often do that---actually, they always do that. But I find something absolutely stunning about the book. For instance, when Alex talks about his non-blind blind grandfather, he mentions that the family can not talk about his deceased grandmother because the grandfather might go MORE blind. There is something very sad and beautiful about this idea---to not be truly blind, but blinded by the loss of love.
But movies always fuck up books for me. I wonder how much wonder I have lost in the book because I am anticipating the storyline. Eh. Whatev. This is an old, tired conversation.
I layed by the pool two days ago for thirty whole minutes. Just thirty. My skin is the color of my fuschia nightgown, and oh-so-tight! What the hell! I don't burn in Israel, but fry myself in 30 minutes in Atlanta.
Ew. I need to quit writing. I am a bag of negativity this morning....
