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I’m about 3/4 of the way through Anne Michael’s “Fugitive Pieces.”  Her prose is wondrous, beautiful, stunning.  She has a talent for describing things so accurately that the reader can (and will) instantly find themselves in the moment described.

The mark of a good novel:  the ability to speak specifically and universally.  The ability of the author to describe human events in terms which everyone can understand.

Michael’s prose is absolutely fantastic:  it is clear she is a poet.  I have underlined nearly half the book, finding myself so taken with a turn of phrase, or a faultless description.

In recent blog posts, I’ve mentioned my 4 or 4.30pm sob-fests, which have been pretty regular each Monday-Friday for a good few months now.  The human body’s internal clock is so bloody accurate, so on the mark, you could literally set your clock by it.  I’ve known people who never needed alarms clocks because they had such strong internal clocks.  Though not an expert in any way on animals or birds, I’m pretty sure that there are species who operate solely on this internal time mechanism.

So when I came across this passage in “Fugitive Pieces,”  I felt it was particularly apt for my current state.  The reason behind my daily timed weeping is due to a recent painful event, one in which I felt a great deal of loss.

“At certain hours of the day, your body will be flooded with instinct, so much of you having been entered, so much of you having entered them.”

The story is about loss, about grief, about ghosts.  There being different kinds of loss doesn’t matter:  in whatever way a person is missing from your life, they are still missing. There is still an absence.  Those who have been close to you, having ‘entered’ you, your life, they linger on in different forms.  Your body knows this, even if your mind doesn’t.  Funny how people can leave a mark on your most intricate inner workings.

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I love that as a title:  you know exactly what you are in for when you read it.  It’s such an easy way to categorize random things and put them all into one post.  Or is it just laziness?  Eh, no matter.

The good thing:  Rainier cherries are back in season!  This is one of my favorite fruits, and are only in season for a couple of months in spring/summer.  And the most expensive fruit I like as well:  anywhere from $7-10 per pound.  Geez!  They’d better be good for that price, eh?  They are damn worth it.  If you’ve not had these cherries– also called Queen Anne cherries, by the way– go and get some,  now.  Immediately.  You’ll be glad you did.

Ok, on to the next:  the bad.  Seems that just about every weekday, at around 4 or 4.30pm, I burst into tears.  Yeah, I know, it’s good I”m on a schedule and all that, but still.  I know that this is residue leftover from my recently demised relationship.  I know that this  happens because every day for over a year, my ex and I talked on skype at sometime between 4 & 6pm, because he was on London time and there is a six hour difference.  I know that my stupid (read: incredibly smart and sensitive) body clock just knows automatically when it’s that time of day.  I don’t watch the clock during my workdays, for the most part, because I work from home, and so I’m not really counting the time.  But I swear, like clockwork, if I am at home at that time, then you can bet I’m in tears.  I’m wondering how long this will last?  I know, I’m trying to rush through something that is just going to take time.  Just like every other human I know, I suffer at times from a bit of impatience.

Now, on to the weird!  Had a ton of dreams last night, most of which I can only remember in fragments.  Most of those fragments have already disappeared.  But the one I do remember is really odd.  I’m talking to my mother, and she says something to me, which prompts me to lean down and whisper in her ear the following:  “but Mom, I’m an Atheist.”  She doesn’t react in the dream as I would expect:  she’s understanding of it.  Now she (as well as most of my family) are rigidly Christian and tend to lean to the conservative side.  My Dad, on the other hand, is more like me, more of a searching soul who likes to read about all kinds of religions, though he does not seem to ascribe to any particular one.  However, in the dream, he was very upset about what I said!  I totally would have expected opposite results!  I also find it interesting that I whispered in the dream.  I don’t think I’ve done that before.

Not sure what this dream means, if anything.  If anyone has any ideas, do let me know!

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