christmas day 2009

and i am still not capitalizing words.

i'm typing on the keyboard of my parents computer. i am not used to it, and my long arms and large hands and dry cracked fingers are awkwardly placed.

i just read 60 pages or so of the new j.m. coetzee novel "summertime". it's very metafiction. i wrote a long, confusing paper on coetzee's book "in the heart of the country" and how it was metafiction and how it jived with another story called "in the heart of the heart of the country", not by coetzee. i used too many quotations.

at one point i remember being in the river ranch in vermont and having countless books and printouts surrounding me in the living room and my bedroom. i began the paper by typing up the quotes in a word doc that i wanted to use in the paper. it was a lot of work. i distinctly remember barely leaving the house for a week. this was during the winter of 2005.

now, i continue to read coetzee. this book is fiction, but it is simultaneously a biography, and also i believe metafiction. of course coetzee would not offer something as conventional as an autobiography. this book is very, very good. buy a copy if you enjoy reading about dreary south african settings and details of relationships.

i may have uploaded this photo before, but at least it contains water.