last tryst with Julie B

[fflo]

That's it; I'm done with her. In a moment I'll dispatch her back to the LoC, now that I'm sated, spent of desire & wash-my-hands finished, in a way she'd probably appreciate---though not as much, I suspect, as if I'd gotten to her. "This woman is an egocentric bitch," wrote a vandal among the volume's previous readers, having restrained herself from pulling out her ballpoint all the way until page 148 (of 197), and apparently not having noticed that Julie had proudly claimed that very identity more than once in earlier passages. What had prompted the need for retort? The suggestion that it's not getting married that's the trick for women, but getting AWAY.

The librarians are feeding us s'mores. They're leftover from a kids' thing. I was hungry, too. A/C Refuge closes in half an hour, and then I'll see about getting some right proper supper.

And now, Julie B, I ditch you, not a helluva lot better able to sympathize with your modus op. But I did take some pleasure in your company, while I felt like it.

Comments

[vjsmom.livejournal.com]

Okay, I have to read Diana. I was (rather embarassingly) into the Royals while she was alive.

I, too, like P.D. James. I saw an interview with her, one I've probably mentioned to you before, in which she talked about coming into her writing career rather late in life. She was working for Scotland Yard at the time, and she used to get up really early and write for a few hours every day before she went to work. She seemed like one of those people who has a really intelligent interest in all aspects of life. A "renaissance woman," so to speak.

[fflo.livejournal.com]

I think I do remember you telling me about that. What I like to say about P.D. is that she writes some kick-ass sentences. That is, seems to me she's exceptionally good with that unit of language. She takes it places others don't. Like Annie Dillard, I perceive, does magic things with the unit of a paragraph.

You know---you finish it and say "Damn, that was a sentence [paragraph]." And would light up a cigarette, as after fucking, if you were a smoker, but instead parlay the readerly afterglow by whatever means available (such as saying "Damn, that was a sentence," or phantasizing^* about making it into an acrostic, or reading it aloud to any living being nearby or reachable by phone who might appreciate it) (or quoting it in yer blog---what am I thinking---that's a new way to do the sharing sort of savoring).

^*Notice: I'm using shmizla's suggested spelling of forms of "phantasy" now.