What I did on my weekend…

Sleep

PETERMBALL Journal

I went to bed around 9:30 last night and got up around 9:30 this morning. Partially this was a response to getting up around 5 in the morning to take my sister to the airport*, partially its a response to my inability to sleep for longer than an hour at a time since I had the cyst cut out. Near as I can tell, the twelve hours I spent in bed equated to about seven hours of fitful sleep. The rest was all tossing and turning and getting out of bed to make sure that my nightmare I’d just had about the stitches pulling open and starting to bleed really were just nightmares.

Obviously, I am not a good patient. Me and bleeding have never been a good combination. And I really, really want to wash my hair.

Now I have to go and make up for lost writing time. There is stuff that needs doing, and I’ve been slack ever since Thursday.

*wish her luck – she’ll be walking the Kokoda Trail for the next ten days and I’m quietly expecting to get another story out of my parents growing concern.

More recent reading

PETERMBALL Conspicuous Acts of Cultural Consumption , ,

So yesterday I had a cyst the size of a walnut removed from my scalp, which served as the catalyst for the rather enthusiastic bandage job posted last night.  The combination of restless nerves, a long wait in the surgery, and the complete inability to sleep due to the bandages constricting my jaw meant I spent a lot of the day reading.

Changeless, the follow-up to the Gail Carriger novel I blogged about on Tuesday, was a fun read that didn’t really have the zomgawesomesauce feel of Soulless. Which is not to say that it isn’t full of Steampunky goodness and a readable book, just that I missed the added frisson of enjoyment that came from the intertextual Austen-esque moments that made the first book so much fun. Austen-esque doesn’t work when you’ve got happy, sexually active couples in the opening pages. I found myself missing that.

Nick and Nora’s Infinite Playlist, however, was the exact kind of comfort reading I was looking for around 1 AM. I picked this book up after listening to the DVD commentary by authors David Levithan and Rachel Cohn on the film adaptation (which is a gently charming coming of age story that I bought largely on the strength of the awesome commentary track featuring the novel’s authors, the director, and the screenwriter). It’s a sweet coming-of-age love story with all sorts of cool stuff happening around the edges (punk music, New York, characters who are gay as opposed to gay characters), and it’s nearly impossible to hate anything that includes the line I’m the nonqueer bassist in a queercore band on the first page. My inner sixteen year old has such a fierce crush on this book. My exterior thirty-three year old kinda digs it too, although he’s far more reserved about his crushes.

Now if you’ll excuse me I’m off to lie very still and wait for the stitched up hole in my scalp to stop hurting. At least the doctor downgraded me to a more sedate bandage today…