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It's Monday morning, children-- time for the existential dread.

Finished The Passion of New Eve sometime 'round midnight last night and old thoughts are burned away by revelation. The ending is quiet, elegant, and introspective -- by the time you get there you've had to re-evaluate how you feel about Mother, about Tristessa, and ultimately about Leilah. Old goddesses are renewed by death, which means the planet has a chance after the end of the book. I wouldn't say that Eve and Evelyn are integrated, per se, by the end of the book, but they're living in an changing state of harmony. Maybe. I'm interested by the notion of opting out of the apocalypse, whether that's simply sticking one's head in the sand or something more meaningful.

Tried to write last night, wrote pages and pages and deleted them all, got frustrated, tried to write some more, got frustrated, et cetera. Nothing's sticking right now. The Fear's on me, though, tapping me lightly on the shoulder. I dreamed about a drunk municipal worker and garbage collection payment, whiskey dumped on the floor like piss, Steph being my sister. There was a lot of churning in the dream.

Ah, hell, screw that. Vintage flight attendant glamour.

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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on February 26, 2007 8:14 AM.

The previous post in this blog was The Passion of New Eve #4.

The next post in this blog is "Lick my lips, kiss my hips, but Contessa!...I already did." (New Pornographers).

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