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We stood in the break room and watched the television suspended in the corner, listening to the President of the United States talk about war, about leveling and rebuilding Iraq. It was strange. Brett came to tell me it started, and it was a measure of how out of it I felt tonight that I had to ask "What started?"

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Thus proving the universe is only kind in the most random of moments, I picked up Melynda's birthday present this morning. Third row seats for Tori Amos, and weirdly enough that's what it was the last time we went.

I'm going back to bed, and hopefully better dreams.

night vision

Vincent Laforet/The New York Times

This is what the war is here. If I had television, I'm sure I would be treated to a looping series of jets taking off carriers, ngiht vision footage of explosions, stock footage done of troops waiting in the desert. But it is always to the eerie glow of night vision that I turn back towards. Because the war will be prime time, and that means fighting at night, and it is the same color always in my dreams.

For some reason this makes me think of how I told a friend today about my years long belief that Neil Gaiman had no eyes, or had strange otherwordly orbs instead. I never saw a picture of him without sunglasses, and somewhere in my twisted young ming I decided he must not have eyes. But I've seen him recently, and he does appear to have normal human eyes.

Thus leading to another thought. I used to tell people I was poison, that I couldn't get involved in any sort of friendship or relationship because I was so damaged and sickened by the things that happened to me. I was standing in the shower today when I realized out of nowhere that I'm not that girl anymore. I'm free to choose my friends and my lovers and I simply am not carrying the weight of all those other moments any longer. Lessons learned, and I'm leaving the rest behind. I almost sat down in the tub from the sheer relief of it all, but then I would have gotten the cell phone wet. It gets staticky then, and we don't want that.

I'm thinking far too fast today, but it's good. It's the sort of thinking that leaps with the grace of a quarterhorse over the fence, and we're running alongside down to the water now. Topic after topic, ideas and sketches and so many beautiful things, and this is why I love to be alive.

Since the war is causing no small amount of stress for a great many people right now, we'll devote a moment to escapism. If you could step into any novel, any story, where would you go? Multiple answers permitted, because you certainly know I couldn't have just one.

The Fionavar tapestry by Guy Gavriel Kay. Always did want to be a woman like Kimberly, with white hair and living by a lake. But that world is one of my favorites of all fantastic and magical ones.

The Miracle Game & The Engineer of Human Souls by Josef Skvorecky. A time and a place that calls to me, a world so not my own. I'd like to think I would have learned to love jazz, and stayed up all night chain smoking and writing and talking with the people in these stories. And when the Russians came, I would forget my diacritical marks, and someone would have to correct my graffitti lovingly. Mostly for Prague.

I'm sure I could think of more, all day. Goes without saying that Tolkien's world should also be included on my list, for as often as I had nightmares about the Nazgul I also dreamed of Lothlorien and the great trees. Which is why my eyes fill with tears everytime I see them in the movies, because they are so very much like what my young heart imagined.

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Ralph Barrera - AMERICAN-STATESMAN

Hundreds of war protestors gathered on the UT campus at noon today and than proceeded to march on Guadalupe Street and block traffic at the intersection of 24th and Guadalupe for several hours in protest of the U.S. led war on Iraq.

The Statesman is covering it, but the story is minimal right now. I hope Gene got some pictures.