it is kind of like clockwork. mid-february and I’m hardly writing anymore. I am never at home. I wonder how much I actually need. somehow everything seems to have been stripped to be a bare minimum. the difference between the eternal whiteness outside and the deepest darkness in the middle of the night. it has been very cold in the last few days, making me sleepier than usual, which has resulted in me not leaving my bed or someone else’s couch for the past three days. I have spent the whole weekend working, but as soon as that was over, all I needed was someone very close to me, endless episodes of House, cult classic films and takeout pizza. which brings me back to my original point; how much do I actually need. not much.
half an hour ferry rides are the perfect opportunity for reading and I have returned to white oleander. in the last week I have re-read the book about four times back to back. I still remember every word, every sentence, every full stop. everything. the female characters; Astrid, Ingrid, Claire, Starr, Olivia, Amelia, Marvel, Nikki, Rena, Michelle, every single one of them; have shaped up the way I write my own characters. references on each page have taught me more than the past four years of school. it has been more than eight years since I first read the book and nothing has changed. the effect which Janet Fitch has had on me is incomparable to that of any other author. and I feel it even now. I am not the same person I used to be back then but there are still a handful of silent remainders of things which used to be important to me.