There is a halo, a completed rainbow, around the moon tonight. The cold is languid; the clouds stretch like endless ice floes. Some are leathered, others smooth as snow ice. One can almost hear them groan in the currents' push.
If tonight were not recycling night, I would not have seen this sky. While I often wish for a life spent completely present, my attention is usually scattered. What is happening on Facebook? Any news about Europe's imminent meltdown? Is Mitt Romney going to bet $10,000 on Monday Night Football?
In this rare moment of repose, my mind basked, let me share an update. I have kept quiet about my main project because, once revealed, my works tend to sit incomplete. However, I want to explain why posts have been few and far between, and, with luck, the piece is far enough along to allow me a small reveal without jinxing myself.
I am writing a novel tentatively titled "The Marionettist". Three hundred pages or about half the book is written, and the rest is mapped out. It is a work of adult fiction that deals with power relationships in society, between family members, and between lovers; it talks about responsibility, desire, and paralysis. It tells the story of a young man, Henry, who wakes to find that he has crafted two life-sized marionettes, one male and one female, in his sleep; he has no idea why he has made them or what they are supposed to do. But he knows that they are supposed to do something, if only he could remember his dream that night.
Updates to Hummus and Kimchi will most likely continue to be scarce so I apologize in advance. However, as the book nears completion, I will release excerpts.
With luck, tonight's quietude will last until this journey's end.