can you believe, i tried to format this all pretty, and break myself down into ordered bullet points. yuck. let's resume, again:

at the start of the month i wrote something in my diary about how summer hits you concussively and cumulatively. i find new joy in fall, winter, spring -- each one is distinct and itself. Summer, not so much; every joy and sorrow is compound, and it only takes a smell and the proper climate to whisk you backwards. even so i think this month at least also is full of N E W .

i finished the age of innocence by edith wharton; i like the way she writes, but didn't like the book, except for a single part near the end that stuck with me -- where Newland is thinking to himself that his lover Ellen looks lifeless, even ugly, and that he had never loved her more than in that moment. I still can't decide whether to read that sentence in good faith (how romantic!) or in bad (Newland wants more from life, and the people around him, than he himself is brave enough to give). anyway i just had to finish the book. i'm not somebody who can just leave it unfinished. at least now that it's done i can go onto all the others i have.

as far as music: several kate bush songs i'm hearing for the first time, such as never be mine, james and the cold gun, jig of life. the original cast recording of cabaret though i haven't finished the movie yet, but several of the songs get stuck in my head.

finished ch.11 of my book only to be eviscerated, gargled, and spit back up by chapter 12. it's the last bit of (literal) housekeeping before i can get to parts much more exciting to me, but it's necessary. it's funny, i think writing has the capability to teach more discipline than nearly 20 years of schooling. here's my head hurting, and i'm still powering through because I ache to see the result. wow.