From Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale

People disappear when they die. Their voices, their laughter, the warmth of their breath. Their flesh. Eventually their bones. All living mempry of them ceases. This is both dreadful and natural. Yet for some there is an exception to this annihilation. For in the books they write they continut to exist. We can rediscover them. Their humour, their tone of voice, their moods. Through the written word they can anger you or make you happy. They can comfort you. They can perplex you. They can alter you. All this, even though they are dead. Like flies in amber, like corpses frozen in ice, that which according to the laws of nature should pass away is, by the miracle of ink on paper, preserved. It is a kind of magic.

--Diane Setterfield



Saturday, June 28, 2008

Durrrr....

Yesterday I saw Erin at Walmart... and acted like a complete retard.

I could have struck up a conversation and gotten to know her a bit better. I'd really like to. BUT my brain effectively shuts off when I should be making intelligent conversation.

The worst part is that right as she was walking out the door, I got an explosion of things that I actually wanted to say and get an answer back about.

Now, cross your eyes, tilt your head and drool... that's about how I feel.

I'm officially adding "making smalltalk" to my list of skills to relearn when I'm not going insane because of work!
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1 comment:

Janika said...

If you are talking Erin Shaha, her blog is linked to Circle of Sisters. Make small-talk there.

June 28, 2008 at 7:51 PM

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