an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Thursday, March 8, 2007

. . . .


Photographs of people from the Con Tinta gathering I want to show you, but first Walgreens gave me someone else's photographs instead of mine and then I fell behind with end of the term grading and other stuff, so the photos are languishing in a bin marked "F" behind the Walgreens counter I can't get back to. Poor Romulus is still at boarding school, too, has been since last Wednesday when I left for AWP. I've been booked with appointments and commitments since my return, all stretching into wee morning and late night hours way past the vet's open doors, so I won't be able to bring him home until this afternoon when he'll be hell pissed at me for leaving him with people who bathe him. Of course I miss him. What're you crazy? I know. I know I'm a bad mother. That's why I've only been entrusted with a big toothy cat. The universe knows better.




"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

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