we must all make do with what rags of love we find flapping on the scarecrow of humanity.

a quote from angela carter's book nights at the circus. reading her always makes me want to write, words come into my head, descriptions of things that wouldn't have been phrased just so if i had not just come out of one of her chapters. so far i have read all her short stories, wise children, the infernal desire machines of dr hoffman, several perceptions and nights at the circus. her characters are the most memorable of any book i've read, no one is a footnote to the story. everyone is imbued with all manner of colorful descriptions of their characteristics and the most insane and odd, beautiful, tremendous things happen over the course of the books/stories. things that although they occur in the realm of the real world, the happenings are distinctly other-worldly, they leave the characters and you wondering where the line between real and unreal is within the story and the world. their world, your world. i always find hoards of words within her writing that i have never seen before and don't know the meaning of. her descriptions of a scene are so thick, she really puts a room and a character together for you to imagine quite easily. beautiful, wonderful reading. probably my favorite author to date.

reflection of telephone wires in a muddy puddle of rainwater recently deposited on the parking lot. they vibrate as if playing out a tune commanded by the passing of cars on the street or the rattle of decade-old shopping carts being trudged over the uneven pavement. a barely perceptible tremor runs through them or else a fierce allegro threatens to break them in half and i fear when they snap one might whip me across the face. all at once the parallel lines vibrate opposite the normal direction of sound waves and move from right to left but just as suddenly they change direction again.