Finished Ian McEwan's Amsterdam. Quite good, but not as amazing as Atonement. Going back to Walker Percy's The Moviegoer which sadly keeps putting me to sleep, and add to that attempting to pick up my favorite author's favorite book, The Hamlet by Faulkner. It's very clear I'm in love with the literary south. Deep, abiding love. I continue to pick up fiction because, for some reason, I want to escape.
Suddenly, I miss painting Warhammer minis. Carnivàle is making me really happy. To me, the people are so much more real, ironically, than even on most contemporary reality shows. Several moments this weekend caused me to think about how I have always been surrounded by brilliant people who I am not quite as smart as, and trying to make up for this by being more "emotionally compelling"*. This has backfired in myriad ways, but I can see now how some things haven't changed a damn bit. I can't wait to have the storage unit, so that temporarily I can clear out my life and take things one at a time. Also, I hope to make it more convenient to re-institute a regime of inspirational post-it note messages designed to motivate me, something that sounds ridiculous and looks especially ridiculous to any outside visitor, but has worked in the past.
I found more bugs in my garlic powder last week. I have basically given up on keeping food in the house (apart from what I can store on the table in the dining room without annoying my roommate and what I can keep in the fridge), due in part to my own psychological problems. This makes eating ten times more expensive. It's completely stupid at this point. I need to consider ways to pack a lunch that won't send me screaming to the Hunan Gate and Pizza Roma daily in a gluttonous frenzy. It amuses me to think that even when I was gravely constricted by budget, back when I first moved up here and was working in Georgetown, I would still eat tons of take-out comfort food (and then not pay my student loan payment month after month... brilliant) in daily fits of irresponsiblity. Now that I can afford to do it, that doesn't make it any more responsible.
It is time to confess that now is not as completely a time of positivity as I would like to think. It has all the earmarks, but one thing is missing, and I have to bring it to the table. That's been the challenge all year. It's November.
And once again everything comes clear: the red flag (rag?) flies.
* "Emotionally compelling" has traditionally manifested as psychodramatic, melodramatic, wearing the weird flag higher than necessary, being an emotional absolutist, giving myself and my effort so wholly to someone/a relationship that my self is compromised, trying to emulate an "artistic temperament" and various efforts both conscious and unconscious.