A hard night's day

The office van spat him out. He dragged himself up the two floors of his building. Opened the door and sleepwalked straight to the kitchen. Where she had left him breakfast with a Note. That woke him up. Like everyday.

Good morning da!

Heat it before you eat it. Add you clothes to the machine and switch it ON. Or else, we shall be wearing our wedding clothes to work tomorrow. Latest Heroes (yuck) streamed on the PC.

He settled down to Heroes. Reheated breakfast in hand, hum of the washing machine in the background. He felt loved.

I'm feeling postitve

I missed a step and tore a ligament. Yeah the same one again. One basketball coach used to yell out butter fingers whenever someone let slip a pass they shouldnt have. I now have my own contribution to add to the colourful description of human body parts. Crepe paper ligaments. That tear even on a change in wind direction. Or the flapping of a butterfly's wings. It isnt anywhere as torn as the last time though, so i get away with crepe bandage and no running/jumping/skipping.

So i decided not to be a hero, not to go to work with a limp as if my putting a semi colon was going to save the world. I decided to work from home. I got off to an early start too, before the state electricity board decided to step in. They cut off power for the whole damn day and when asked why, said it was Thursday, like that explained everything and how dumb could one be for asking. So i couldnt work from home, i couldnt entertain myself from home, i certainly couldnt not be at home. The day could have been awful but i had the Big Bang by Simon Singh (who is now my new rock star) for company and of course afternoon sleep. I realized something during the course of the day. Here i am, on an unscheduled leave, and it doesnt bother me, it doesnt affect my work, it doesnt affect anyone else at work or probably anyone else in the world! While it should have made me feel about this big and made question my role in the scheme of things and left me generally depressed, it didnt. People, or at least I, dream of having a life they can take a break from whenever they feel like one and come back to it and for it be like they never left. Or, because i've been reading about spacetime and would like to show off, primarily to the future me, i dream of being light enough to cause minimal distortion in the spacetime around me. So i can walk off to another part of the universe and not have planets plummet into each other or fly off into space. Today, at a very micro level, was about that.

Onto books now

The first time i came across Neil Gaiman was at the science fiction section at Landmark. He was sold to me by a 6 footer who wouldn't touch books with a 7 foot pole. Big name in the comic world, he wrote Sandman, don't you know? Huh? I bought it anyway. Anansi Boys. It came with a lot of praise and a Hugo nomination that the author declined, say. I could barely finish it. It was one of those rare books i had to skip the middle to get to the end of.

My next one was American Gods (which Wikipedia now tells me might have been a prequel to Anansi Boys!). Hugo and Nebula award winner. I couldn't read past one fourth of that one. I went around feeling ashamed of myself. I couldn't finish his books. What was wrong with me??

The third one was The Graveyard Book. Hugo again. Lot of praise again. I justified the purchase saying it was a children's book, there is no way i couldnt finish a children's book. I promised the 6 footer that if i didnt make it through this one, i'd mentally classify Gaiman as an author of umm... literary fiction or... magic realism or... yes, good housekeeping, stuff i wouldnt touch with a 7 foot pole. But this one had me at hello.

Its about a little boy called Nobody (Bod) Owens who is bough up in a graveyard. By ghosts. There is a scene early on when Bod is just a baby, living with real, living parents. He has managed to topple off his crib by climbing on his teddy and has waded his way to the head of the stairs.

Stairs that went up were tricky things, and he had not yet entirely mastered them. Stairs that went down however, he had discovered, were fairly simple. He did them sitting down, bumping from step to step on his well-padded bottom.

I read those lines and then i couldnt make myself get back to the book for the rest of the day, i was so excited! How does anyone come up with stuff like that? You'd have to go inside a little one's head to find it, thats the only place where stairs that go up and stairs that go down exist as two different things! Although, I'm not sure children (or young adults as they seem to be called these days) who are the audience for this book will "get it". It might work on them as a joke though. I went back to the book at night and it didnt disappoint. I got so caught up in Bod's wanderings around the graveyard, i forgot he was the only living kid in a colony full of ghosts. His adventures reminded me how little it takes to keep you entertained as a kid. I loved how it is okay to invent a concept like "Freedom of the graveyard" without defining it exactly, because kids are used to things they dont entirely understand. I loved that Bod had Silas, an adult who is his filter to the world, who helps things make sense, who keeps out the bad stuff, while preparing him for the day he will have to walk out into it. And like a reviewer says on the book, i cant wait to see what happens next. I hope there is more!