John Connolly"s The Unquiet is a good read, regardless of the fact I began it thinking I had an out and out horror novel in my hands. now, on pg 253 (out of 418), Im caught-up in an 'almost' standard detective story. theres a slight element of supernatural peeking from behind the main plot, enough to make me wonder if something speculative is going to become more focal. the detective part is good enough, a few hollow men (as they're referred to so far) might just juice-up things.

one thing: this book is written 1st person with several areas in 3rd, and its the smoothest transitions Ive ever read. usually when POV switches a lot, it's too apparent and a fucking nusance. not in this book; mostly I dont even notice it until several paragraphs in.

plus, heres a line I just have to share with ya:


"Help you?" she said. She had a voice like puppies being strangled, high and gasping.


I had to read that three times. I think its my favorite sentence from a novel yet.

having not yet completed the book, I'll still recomend it.


***

the kitchen is fucked, the bathroom is fucked, and that room that has a bed in it which I use for storage only is fucked too.

BUT...

soon it'll all be peachy. man I wish I could get some pics online so ya's can see what it is Im doing. but alas and alack, I have no camera, therefore I have no pics.

the bath'll be four foot deeper, allowing 1)the washer/dryer to finally have a permanent home, 2)the sink to be 36" instead of that crappy 18", and 3)the toilet shoved over a foot (so it aint all in the way when ya step outta the shower). the former bathroom wall is actually gone, btw. I burned what I could and took away what I couldnt.

so theres a washer* and tools and lumber (and sundries out the ass) in the kitchen, a dryer, shovel, multipal brooms, a sho-vac, and a tarp in the bath, a mirrored cabinet, dirty clothes, and various dropped ceiling parts in the livingroom, and boxes eyeball high in the bedroom: the house--collectivly--is fucked.



*washer and dryer're fullsize; not like those little ones S saw
###


hurry the fuck up, spring. I am so ready for short-sleeve weather.

me and V traipse along, mindfull of each other's feelings but not having what ya'd call a relationship. some people think we're married--I dont give a shit. some people think we're fuck buddies--I also dont give a shit about that. we're friends, and sometimes that worth trading away compassion, sex, and the potential pain of separating.

she puts the bandades on my cuts (I always apply the neosporin cuz she uses way too much) and I listen to her yak. sounds kinda fair to me.

my cat's hair--or more correctly, lack of--remains a mystery. she'll have to get over it cuz I aint got money for a vet.

warm in here. its 20 degrees outside, thats somewhere below 0 Celsius, and Im in a teeshirt. got a hell of a fire goin on. I love wood heat.

stoned. got some good weed. thats why Im on the pooter instead of working on the house. I will, directly, but wanted to jot a bit in my story ( working title: Summer '09) and yak a dab here. then I'll continue toting things upstairs. I worked til almost 2 in the morning lastnight so today getting a way late start. got the weekend, too, to get stuff done, so for the next couple of days I'll be working and/or playing at unusual hours.

N, that was a good email. thanks for the smile.




see ya's
........