i read a book called nothing to be frightened of by julian barnes. in this book, he talks about his family, his agnosticism, and the nature of life and death. it sounds like it should be a very heavy tome, but barnes keeps it light and enjoyable, even while making the possibility of death, ultimate death, feel quite real. reading it, i felt a strange mixture of dread and delight. though it isn't really pleasant to think about not existing anymore, it is mildly comforting to know that somebody else is scared of it too...
i would rather think about these things and get a little sad about them than not think about them at all, or remain where i've been all my life-- in a sort of half-thought-out state of maybe-this-will-happen-ness. of course i have no idea what will happen, but to fully consider the possibilities feels important.
i have taken a short story i wrote called "human tenderness" and am making it into a graphic version, in other words a story with pictures. i started last night and i have the first two pages under my belt. i am using pencil, roller ball pen, and 3 colors of india ink: cherry red, turquoise, and sepia. the story is about a man who comes to pick up his friend for lunch and finds that the friend has killed himself.
today i took a walk to las salsas, a sort-of good mexican restaurant on san pedro. the air was cold and the sky was so, so blue. on my way home i saw a dog running in the road and i whistled to it. it stopped. i knelt down and made a kiss noise, but it didn't come over. i whistled a few more times. it didn't have a collar on. it looked young. it was black and white.
