Blurry-eyed new england morning, but I do not mind, for I have written things that hint at something to do for the overlinked NaNoWriMo project. I've been languishing (eep, what a melodramatic word!) in fragmentland, with numerous dissconnected fragments of nothing in particular spewing out of the end of my pen in rapid sucession, and then refusing to make mosaiclike with anything. They've been sitting about in notebooks like the collections of junk in drawers in my Study/Room at home. Finally, something completely different.

I am in Newport, Rhode Island, in the quaintest of apartments, lounging on a couchbed between a huge highlander sword and chainmail on one wall and a salvador dali poster and a dreamcatcher on the other. (At the moment, I don't actually remember what I dreamed last night, in spite of the helpful implement above my head).

My only complaint is that this bed is too damn big. I slept on the narrowness of couch before last night, and the nice comfy leather embrace of that suited me just fine. In a bed like this, I expect a warm foxwoman to snuggle against, and the abscence of one is galling. I've been conditioned, I fear, to double-bed sleeping. Fortunately, in lieu of a familiar snore, rasberry vodka screwdriver works quite nicely. As a lullaby, you understand.

In other news, this little contraption on which I type is an iBook. They're not really as bad as all that, in fact, they're quite nice. I'm still hesitant, but on the other hand, if I can get credit from apple when I can't from Dell... yes yes, I Need a Notebook Computer. Not that I don't love my paper notebooks, but they dont play music or let me play chess, or the Sims.

Anyway. So far, this trip has been an Experience. Particularily in the meet interesting people department. The first seatmate I had on the train was a student Rabbi, down from Brooklyn to teach in Fredricksburg virginia. We had a wonderful conversation about the glories of the Jewish faith, and the joy of the teachings. Then I met very nice people who helped me navigate DC, including their-- once you're used to it-- terribly user-friendly Metro system. A homeless fellow finished the fries I couldn't eat and another fellow got most of the cigarettes I shouldn't smoke. Then, on the train out of DC, I met a HUD inspector from New York City named Lena. The youngest of 11 children, Lena was named for Lena Horne, and had been in Newport News visiting her great grandbaby, who was rather a handsome young gent, from the picture. She was one of those incredibly sweet, yet totally clueless people, who you just can't correct when they tell you not to say that you 'won't ever marry a man' and that you just haven't ever really been in love yet. I think I copped out with something vauge about 'different kinds of families'.

Either way. We were stuck underneath Penn Station in NYC for an hour. On a side note, this was the first time I'd seen the skyline of New York-- you know, After-- and was creeped a bit. Somewhere before Kingston, RI, the engine on the train completely died. We were stuck in the boring middle of nowhere until almost 9 in the bloody morning on monday. A Rabbit was Not Amused.

Although, on a much more amusing note, she did see a red, octoganal sign lying by the tracks when the train did start moving again. It read 'BARRICADE' on it in white block letters. We wanted to go grab it, alas.

Arrived in the bombed-out Quaintness of Providence somewhere around 10, and, met by Ilia, took the bus into Newport. Have been writing almostt ever since. When havent been petting Sister Midnight, the nice black-and-white kitty that seems to have adopted Ilia and Sam for her very own. She has a collar, but she likes their cardboard boxes and my lap, and, if left outside, their deck chairs. Been reading a smidgen of Nin and Poe's brother, Mark Danielewski. I ought work on my entries for Notebook and Modernes. The Trechery of Images by Magritte is on the kitchen wall. Sappho smoulders at me bare-breasted from above the living room desk. I wish I could see my other various friends scattered about the new england region, mais alors, ce n'est pas possible. Ah well, she mumbled through mangled french, and stole away.

The title of this entry is the name of the song that is, currently, in my head.

<<agé chose>>

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