and so, goodnight. we go over the top tomorrow.

[fictional]

I've lots of things to post about - drinking absinthe, bombs, food porn, etc. etc., but this is not that post.

I've just discovered that Lucy Maud Montgomery killed herself in 1942. Anne & Emily, Valancy & Pat and Jane - they were some of the dearest friends of my childhood. And this year, I've been reading L.M. Montgomery's journals for my dissertation - and reading someone's diary is such an intimate feeling, even after they've been published, even after they're dead.

I remember discovering the short stories - ghosts, and divorces and illegitimate children and alcholics and depressions, always depression - and I was so fascinated.

This, though. This makes me feel... I don't know what.

Comments

[kalichan.livejournal.com]

Yeah, it's quite a puzzle. I wish I had eloquent things to say; instead it's just... blank.