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O_o

Sunday’s supposedly glorious excursion to the Met was a total bust. But of course it was, you all say! How could it have been anything else? It started downhill when I left the apartment without a jacket, telling myself that it wasn’t really as cold as it seemed to be outside. Well, much like the Rapture-followers discovered, wishing doesn’t fucking make it true. After sitting outside the museum for over an hour, I realized I was getting a cold. Also, the exhaust and fumes from the several hundred tour buses idling on the street made me a bit light-headed – I’d forgotten that the Met has become a world-class dumping ground for thousands of tourists who aren’t as interested in what’s inside the museum as much as taking pictures of themselves outside the museum. Fortunately, there was a small coffee stand open, so that kept me from having to beg for a cup of hot dog water at the other food stand. I’m really trying to cut down on liquids that have so many roach legs and pig anus bits in them.

And then my friend arrived and we promptly ran away! Seriously. It was just too crowded at the Met, so we ended up at Cafe Sabarsky in the Neue Gallery, where we ate brunch in a wood-paneled, old-timey sitting room the size of my entire apartment. Being a peasant sucks.

After brunch, we went down to the start of the High Line, and walked the length down to Kava Cafe in the Meatpacking District. It’s a beautiful little park, and I think I’ll be going back a number of times over the summer – there’s lots of covered spaces where you can sit and read or write, and look out over the Hudson River and the very raggedy, industrial edges of Chelsea. Of course, though, after six hours spent largely outside in cold air and drizzley rain, I sort of fell apart – I went home, took some flu meds and promptly fell asleep for three hours, then woke up and spent the rest of the evening being violently ill in all kinds of ways I’m far too ladylike to describe. And another lovely Sunday came to an end!

And here’s my word count meter for FrankenNovel:

Yes, it’s a small number, extremely small for the amount of time I’ve spent working on it (well over a year). However, I have approximately 100,000 words worth of backstory, character sketches, plot points, chapter outlines and world building that aren’t included in that little 12k word count. And a lot of those backstories and sketches will (hopefully) go into other novels featuring this particular protagonist. So there you go.

Only 151 more days until the next Rapture! I know, it’s like I swear we just had one…

.

Originally published at Livia Llewellyn.

Marine Autumn

I owe you marine autumn
With dankness at its roots
and fog like a grape
and the graceful sun of the country;
and the silent space
in which sorrows lose themselves
and only the bright crown
of joy comes to the surface.

--Pablo Neruda.


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