I find it strange to consider the amount of people, the vast megaloads of users who've read my last daylog. Everything2 is a constant source of pleasure and disappointment to me; pleasure in that I read so much bravery, so much decency into all these many nodes, fighting to battle out a little corner of nodegel that's absolutely, undeniably order. Disappointment that I'll never read it all; it takes too much to make our dreams 100 percent of reality.
One. Five. Seven. Nine. Numbers in a red notebook.
I was trying to get started on To The Lighthouse the other day. It's by Virginia Woolf, whom I've often heard mentioned but never had occasion to read. The cover's pleasant enough - a rather old-fashioned looking woman on the beach, hat in hand. A detail from Evening On The Beach by Dame Laura Knight. It's beautiful. Inside is a further delight; the text spacing and size is such that this inch thick book is going to be about half an inch's worth of reading. Short books are a blessing, particularly after all that Harlan Ellison with his 10 point Times filling every inch of the page. I'm still convinced you could cut out a lot from his stories, sacrilegious though it is.
Elizabeth's friend came into the store the other day. I was working second shift with her - Elizabeth, I mean - and her friend just came in and she was all jolly, and she just says 'Guess what I have in my purse?' to Elizabeth. Elizabeth looked in and giggled, kind of putting her hand over her mouth. I could see this from the back of the store and she was saying something about me, because Elizabeth's friend turned round to look at me. I fiddled with the lottery machine until I knew she wasn't looking. They both went into the back, then, and it was so obvious what they were doing because there was this sweet smell, kind of like hickory chips on the grill, and they both came out from the back laughing together.
I told Elizabeth later that she shouldn't take people in the back. She told me to go forth etc. And then she laughed, so I guess we're okay. I don't know what I'll do if it happens again, though.