Addenda

Addendum 1, re: 'good little wifey and mom'

... yeah, right. If it pleases the court, I submit exhibit a (above), you see how brown that carrot bread is? Do you know how the Jews built the pyramids? They took that solid as a rock, burned to a crisp carrot bread and stacked one on top of each other until, voilà (or 'Violet'): pyramids.

And all I said to myself was: 'Oh, I'll just lie down here for a minute, and just rest my eyes ...'

... four hours later ... is that something burning?

You know, in Arabic tradition, the first thing the new bride does is make bread in the tandoor for her mother-in-law. It has to be perfect: not to doughy, not burnt. I saw a picture of one young girl crying because just one minute of inattention had the bread singed. Perfect start of the marriage there, eh? with the mother always saying, 'Oh, yes, I remember that time little Fatima burnt the bread ...' with a very stern and scolding look.

Addendum 2, re: fox supple.

Okay, okay, quit twisting my fallen-off arms, okay? So, I went back and revisited the soufflé recipe — the 'real vrai egg soufflé' recipe — and how could I not, with Saga saying, scoldingly, 'oh, but I'll try the real soufflé recipe, not your fakey one' (she didn't actually say that) and the French brigade and gendarmes battering through my door ("Oh, heresy! Sacrilege! Sacre Bleu! [whatever that means ...] You must try the vrai true recipe for the fun and joy of seeing if the soufflé stands!") (I do not know what fun it is to have your arms fall off, but whatevs ...) and this time, using a wisk, and much stronger, more exercised arms, and a wee bit more experience, it came off rather quickly, and yes, it was light and airy ... effervescent, even, unlike my quick faux substitute.

Still took an hour.

But it was yummy.

Anyway. You choose.

Addendum 3, re: 'Whatever that book was'

That book was a graphic novel. This guy wrote about boring stuff like vampires and stuff, and his friend/editor said: 'Meh.' and 'Blä.' and 'Write from your heart! Write from your soul! Don't give me this garbage!'

So he wrote and drew a graphic novel, about a girl, 24 years old, with terminal breast cancer.

And it's heartbreaking, poetic, beautiful ... as she's dying in the cancer ward, no hair, wasting away, she ...

Well, research it and read it. I won't describe any more to you. But he wrote about hope, you see, even in dying, even in death, he wrote about hope.

I think I see part of what my 'writer's block' is about.

...

I have so much else to write, and to say, but I'm off to a wake. A friend of the family died.

Hm. I wonder what will be said when I will die? 'A friend of the family died.' Probably not. I need friends for that to be said.

I'm not fishing, btw, so don't bother.

You know: update soon and all that. All we have is now; that's all you're given. You can't expect anything from me, like updating soon or finishing a story or responding to a PM, and I can't either. I mean, I try and I'll try, but one day soon ... well, all you'll see is that I haven't updated in a while. That's all. I appeared for a short time, wrote some things, and, like Violet, I'll just be gone, is all.

I'm sad, for some reason.

I love you all.