crept




W I N D

vast and roaring, last night, this morning. C even drove me to work, for fear that I'd be blown off the causeway. Concern = weird. Fittingly, last night we watched Take Shelter. Good but painful. Michael Shannon was terrific, but even better in this

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Smashed fluorescent lights make a godawful mess. 

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A town hall of CBC radio to discuss anxiety and mental illness in the student population, if it had reached the level of crisis. C being a college instructor, we talk about this kind of thing all the time. How it is real and not real. And Christ how there's a lot of disability going around. On the one hand the subject makes me wince, because it was no different when I was going through, a million years ago, except instead of anxiety we called it fucking up, and it wasn't so much anxiety as it was straight-up fear. And we fucked up in spades: O, *next* week I'll wake up for class, and get my act together, Jesus I can't fail this thing again. If anything, our job prospects were bleaker (you know what it takes to sell real estate?). But I still have some sympathy for these kids, who have been praised and helicoptered to pieces, and live in a world of cascading instant screens, and are completely alienated from sustained thought, and even themselves.

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Tried, and failed, to read The Orange Eats Creeps. This is not to say that it's a bad book. It might be brilliant. But I, as of right now, with this brain, trying to read while sitting on the edge of the tub, running Oona's bath, could not follow it. 

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Speaking of weirdos, we took the reigning champ out to Lemoine Point on Saturday. 




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