When I was a child, I used to watch The Wizard of Oz, which was shown on TV just once a year. (I'm remembering it being shown around Thanksgiving, but I'm not sure if that's correct.) It wasn't until I was in my early 20's that my mother pointed out that Judy Garland was playing a girl supposed to be 12 years old. I had no idea. It was only a couple of years ago that I read the book. This morning, I saw Return To Oz, which Phillip told me is one of his favorite movies. The book made me doubt The Wizard of Oz's status as a "classic." Return To Oz corfirmed that, while The Wizard of Oz may be a well-made and entertaining movie, it did an injustice to the book. Return To Oz conveyed the book's darker side - and I'm not talking about Wicked Witch scary stuff. That simple scene with Dorothy sitting on her bed in a dreary-looking hospital room, staring at the door, with the lightening storm outside, was far creeperier than anything in the "classic" Wizard of Oz.

I'm down to the last two stories in Changing Planes. I borrowed a collection of Langston Hughes poems today from the UW library. I want to start reading East of Eden.

Dead Can Dance sounds best late at night or very early in the morning.

Lately, I've felt weighed down by the material items I carry around. I've felt overwhelmed by the constant accumulation of STUFF. But I can't live without music - I just can't. Today, I bought myself a birthday present: the Putumayo World Music CD called "Celtic Tides."

The Artful Dodger was on the bus this morning, with her child. Phillip says the child is a girl. I say it's a boy. It's a pointless debate - the child's gender doesn't matter to us a bit - but it's just something fun to do on the ride in.

This morning, The Artful Dodger called the child "Elliott." Too bad Phillip wasn't there to hear it. Still, I suppose that Elliott could be a girl's name.

Poetry is best when read out loud.

Something happened at yesterday's writers' group that I didn't recognize until today. It was when Barbara remarked that she'd heard every word of my "Out Of Reach" story, but didn't understand how I'd gotten to the end. I realize, now, that it was the first real piece of constructive criticism I'd gotten from the group. I enjoy the group, but I'm afraid it tends to be a little too nice.

I want to work on "Out Of Reach," and strengthen the middle part - the bridge from the beginning (within reach) to the end (out of reach). I want to submit it to The Sun. I have an idea for another "Readers Write" topic - "Second Chances" - that I want to submit, even though it may be a little too "upbeat" for the tone the magazine seems to favor, and even though it may be disqualified because it appeared, in one form, in this blog. (Technically, that may make it a published work - I'm not sure.) I want to write that idea I had, too late, for "Size" - just for the fun of it.

As I write this, an entry about writing, The Wonder Boys - one of my favorite movies about writing - is playing on TNT.

Today, I finished the story in Changing Planes called "Woeful Tales From Mahigul." I agree, so far, with Phillip that it's not the best story in the book. Still, it is an interesting experience to read a book that is a collection of short stories and which contains a story that is a collection of short stories.

For my birthday, my sister and her family gave me a copy of John Steinbeck's East of Eden. I've never read it, and I haven't started reading it yet. The book has one of the best first sentences I have ever seen: "The Salinas Valley is in Northern California."

My sister told me she wasn't aware the Steinbeck is one of my favorite authors. If I had tp pick a favorite genre of book, I'd pick novels by mid-twentieth century American authors (Hemingway, Steinbeck, Kerouac, Sallinger...).

Today was the second annual writers' group picnic that I have been a part of. Today is my birthday. Barbara told me that in the long history of the writers' group, this was the first time it rained on the day of its annual picnic.

Physically, I am feeling very tired today, like I cannot fully wake up. I slept for about three hours this afternoon. Mentally, I am feeling very lost and detached today, like I cannot fully connect to the world. I have had to remind myself that today is Sunday, and that tomorrow, I will go to work.