"My dress, my sail." "I have kept a room for you."

I finally finished Catherynne M. Valente's novel Palimpsest.
*falls over*
Oh gods. I can't even find the words.
This book. This book. I mean... gods. Oh. Oh my.
I want to climb up to a high place and shout at people to go read this book.
I don't think I have felt this awed, stunned, and exhausted since I first read Mark Helprin's A Winter's Tale.
I have to read it again now.
I have to go back to that city.
Even Catherynne's LiveJournal is awesome.
(In my dreams I sometimes check my skin all over for a tattooed map, you know.)

Last weekend I wrote a scene in the novel that was painful. I wound up asking my husband to describe countenance and body language during a typical complex partial seizure. He told me that I often look as though I am struggling to hold on to myself while being aggressively pulled, stolen, forced beyond. The novel has strong flavors of Being Alice, overall.

It got up to seventy-five degrees today. It was gorgeous. I spent the entire day in stabbing pain and suffered an asthma attack in the afternoon, yet beyond that I was quite well.

You are all well, I assume?