Today I heard a melody in the drain. Sheathed in showered bliss, the bliss of warm skin after washing, I was toweling off when I heard it. It was jumpy and light. You see, our house is in a virtual earth bowl into which the rain, or in this case, the melted snow, runs. Therefore, our drains are always drowned and clogged. Today, as our bathtub drained, the bathroom sink's pipes bubbled a song. I thought how whimsical God's sense of humor was.
This is a random note I wanted to share. My real news reminds me of the drinking drain. Ironically, on the day I switch from soda pop to a diet of orange juice and water, my review of Darrin Doyle's The Girl Who Ate Kalamazoo was published on Literary Laundry's website.
This is ironic because of the theme of consumption. The Girl who ate Kalamazoo, Audrey Mapes, is a portrait of grotesque consumption. But don't take my word for it.
Please read the review and try to understand my train of thought; meanwhile I'm attempting to write a review of the Japanese film Nobody Knows for my next blog post.
No comments:
Post a Comment