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first anniversary entry
Dec. 28th, 2004 11:19 amIt's a year ago today that I started this LiveJournal. I've been waiting impatiently all week to write a commemorative entry, and now that I come to do it, I don't have anything prepared.
The year cleaves for me into several clear segments, like an orange that pulls apart into crescents of different colours -- a blood orange, then, or possibly a not-very-orange-at-all. (Limes and lemons don't segment, do they? Just oranges and grapefruits and that ilk? I can't remember anyone ever segmenting a lime. If I sound oddly unfamiliar with citrus fruit, well, I am. I came to them late, by an odd but uninteresting set of circumstances not detailed here.)
The first part was the Vancouver part, of course, and then there's the gummy bit between, like pith but stickier, which is moving back to Victoria, and the brief sojurn in Rattletrap Manor -- more than ever like a stay in a Bed & Breafast, some disastrous vacation in splendid surroundings.
And then that bleak August I hope never to relive, even in an eternally repeating universe; I'll shut my eyes when I know that bit is coming. And now Paris, and the negotiations of a new life. And it is, you know, a sunnier December than I expected, children. (I can call you children because I'm not speaking to your faces, wise and solemn, but your youthful cores (kores...).)
( One reason I am in a good mood... )
The year cleaves for me into several clear segments, like an orange that pulls apart into crescents of different colours -- a blood orange, then, or possibly a not-very-orange-at-all. (Limes and lemons don't segment, do they? Just oranges and grapefruits and that ilk? I can't remember anyone ever segmenting a lime. If I sound oddly unfamiliar with citrus fruit, well, I am. I came to them late, by an odd but uninteresting set of circumstances not detailed here.)
The first part was the Vancouver part, of course, and then there's the gummy bit between, like pith but stickier, which is moving back to Victoria, and the brief sojurn in Rattletrap Manor -- more than ever like a stay in a Bed & Breafast, some disastrous vacation in splendid surroundings.
And then that bleak August I hope never to relive, even in an eternally repeating universe; I'll shut my eyes when I know that bit is coming. And now Paris, and the negotiations of a new life. And it is, you know, a sunnier December than I expected, children. (I can call you children because I'm not speaking to your faces, wise and solemn, but your youthful cores (kores...).)
( One reason I am in a good mood... )
