Sue Grafton
K is for Killer

Under Rug Swept, Alanis Morrissette



Tuesday 26 March 2002

never completely ceasing

Somewhere in Minnesota, from the plane

Since my bed went kaput last week, I have not been sleeping well. I was up in NYC last weekend and John lent me his sleeping bag, which added another layer of thickness and made it a degree more bearable. Plus it was nice to smell him even though he wasn't there. I can't quite define what it is I'm smelling, maybe the shampoo he uses (which, I think, is the same as mine. I converted him to Pantene Pro-V a while ago).

I also got to see the light memorial at the World Trade Center. You can see them pretty well from John's apartment, and I was able to get an even better view when we were driving over the 59th Street Bridge. They're kind of strange and eerie but appropriate, I think. Instead of making me feel sad, seeing them actually made me feel better.

and it is always the same from here, the FDR is a glowing vein on this arm of land, the east river is like still dark serrated glass, moving and interrupting the lights that float in the air, the lights of every little life, blinking and unblinking, switching on and off but never completely ceasing.


So, I haven't been sleeping, which isn't anything new, but lord fucking almighty, did I feel like shit during all of today. I was five minutes into my morning commute when I realized that I already hated today, and it wasn't even 8 o'clock yet. I stumbled into class and collapsed on the studio couch, where I slept, on and off, for the next 2 and a half hours. The cold and drizzly weather didn't help shake my overall sense of weariness.

I'm sure I had something important and interesting to say but it escapes me at the moment.

The Bachelor makes me want to throw up. When I first heard the premise, it smacked of the trash typically found on Fox (not like ABC is known for taking the moral high ground, either). I caught a few bits of it while I was cleaning, and god. I don't think it's as simple as being misogynist, though it is. It's just offensive. That's the best word I can find for it. The fact these women have to compete for this guy (who should really just have "good catch" stamped on his, funny, intelligent, and did we mention loaded?), thus putting him in a position of power and reducing them to posturing, begging and fighting each other for his affections. It's not something I would want to do in my private life, let alone on fucking national tv. Even if it meant that I would have a gorgeous, funny, intelligent husband, as well as being taken care of for life. Whoever the woman is who marries him, I pity her. How, after all this, could she respect herself? I can't imagine entering into a partnership where the power and desire is so skewed in one direction. Oh, yes, the holy union of matrimoney.

Moving on...

I'm really really digging Alanis' new album, which is surprising because I couldn't stand her first two albums. I don't know what it is about it, it's just good. Her lyrics are still awkward and occasionally trite, but her voice is less annoying and the instrumentation is somewhat more interesting. I can't get "Hands Clean" out of my head. Plus I think I'm getting obsessed with early Madonna.

My work at school is going really fabulously well. It's nearly April, the proverbial crunch time, and I actually feel good at the level of my work right now. To use a lame metaphor, it's like fog was obscuring the road, and now it's cleared and I can see where I am going. I see a logical end, and I see how it circles around again and joins together. All my ideas, finally gelling into something I actually like.