Had the loveliest (hungover, but still) conversation w/ Matt Wilson last night. Am just stunned at how much we’ve managed to grow together over the past two years, rather than growing apart. I’m gone for 10 weeks, and everything solidifies instead of splintering. Am so, so lucky to have a person in my life who is wholly supportive of me pursuing my art, even if it takes me far away and surrounds me with shiny, new people doing exactly what I love. Most dudes would be super threatened by this. And it IS scary and threatening, for both of us, but then we talk through it. We CAN talk through it. And afterward we choose each other all over again, and it still feels like the right choice. Shocking, amazing, and awesome.
And I did make it to HP last night, and it was absurd and bizarrely plotted and I loved it anyway. All the resonant images are either 1) related to reading and books (Voldemort explodes into pages that crisp into ash) or 2) look like the Blitz. The epilogue was awkward–it was even worse onscreen, and I hated it on the page. But watching the final HP while surrounded by Clarionauts was the best possible closure to that whole arc I could’ve imagined. I still associate HP w/ the dead boyfriend–we read all the books together, stood in line w/ the Burts to see the movies…I definitely remember asking myself “But but how could he kill himself before reading the last book??” Imprinting different, positive memories onto HP felt deeply right.
Enough sap. I need to wander off and write all the things, but first: the ocean.
And then I gotta figure out what I’m writing for this week–stat. No more slacking, self!