one microspike

I said I would come back to the ridge between 2018 and 2019, so here is the end of 2018:

the last Friday of 2018 I left work and went to South Station with my weighty backpack and a tube with a painting in it. Did you know that Portland, ME is only two hours away? I didn't, until Sorrel and Hannah started telling me I should meet them there. There's a bus that goes once an hour, which surprised me; 40$ for a round trip ticket, which is valid for a year. Of course I got there five minutes after the bus had left so I had to wait for the next one, but in due time, after watching a very strange animation about a speed-crazy snail, I found myself in Maine - which I insist is supposed to be no fewer than six hours away but somehow I got there in two.

Sorrel and Hannah met me there, bringing with them a much welcome dinner and hugs. We drove about an hour before getting to Sorrel's parents house: they have an interesting home, with a compost toilet and solar power and a wood-stove which heats the house. They were off the grid for years but recently hooked up to it and give their electricity into the system.

In the morning, we went to Portland and met Hannah's brother and poked around the little shops. Hannah left too soon with her brother to Belfast ME. Sorrel and I headed to a used bookshop (which is were I got the previously mentioned White Tiger).

We got home and made dinner and the next morning we got up and went for a walk up a little hill. Maine has snow, which I haven't seen much of this year. There was a dusting in Massachusetts this morning, but even when Papa and I climbed Mt. Monadnock the weekend before there wasn't much snow. Sorrel and I only had one set of microspikes between the two of us, so we each bore weight on one leg as we made our way up the icy slope. At the top, there was a view of some frozen lakes and mountains further out.

At the end of the day the four of us (Sorrel and I, and her parents) watched Dinner with Andre, which makes it the last movie I saw in 2018. The next morning Sorrels father showed me the starts of permaculture plots they had planned out around their land. Being there reminded me that I wanted a goat to get milk from. I imagine being a therapist with a goat and a vegetable patch. I guess I don't have a very good imagination, because mostly I imagine the goat and the vegetable plot in my parent's backyard. Mama had a boy goat named Pashka when she was little, and he's in some of the family photos.

Eventually it was time to go back home and Sorrel drove me back to the Portland station. On the bus I read I Talk Pretty One Day (which I finished later without feeling any accomplishment, and feeling confused as to why Sidaris is so well known). At some point on the bus I got a text form Veta with my Secret Santa; Eloosha, and I started to think of what to give him that I could assemble in the few hours I'd be home, which now leads us to the part of 2018 which is practically 2019 - for next time.

half eaten books

I met the new year surrounded by old friends, having ended 2018 surrounded by slightly less old college friends. But perhaps more on that later: the new year is often a time to reflect. In my case, I am reflecting on the books I have started in my life but not finished. From the bottom:

First: I don't think I will finish this book. Prisoner's of Love has been treacherous, I just can't get into it. I give up. I do.
2nd: The Geographer Drank His Globe Away does not have the same ring to it in English as it does in Russian. My mother gave me this book; I am #blessed with a mother who's book recommendations tend to fall in line with my literary tastes, I guess this is no accident (side note: that is my least favorite hashtag that I see all the time). So I know I should give it another try, in spite of my borderline illiteracy in Russian (I'm exaggerating but still)
3rd: Has anyone ever actually finished this book? Not only is Infinite Jest difficult to carry around, it is also the most depressing thing I have ever read. In some ways like the Bell Jar but longer, without the southern romanticism of The Sound and The Fury to take the edge off, or the Irish romanticism and nationalism of Joyce's Ulysses (see, those books I somehow managed to read!) Because reading it is so mundane, and is lasts forever. Absurd as well, sure, but mostly it feels like waiting in line for your groceries behind someone talking about tennis. We'll see. Not a priority.
4th: The White Tiger is a book I picked up while in Maine at a second hand book shop with Sorrel. It is the first book I ever didn't finish, senior year of high school, because it was a school book and I didn't finish it in time before graduating. Not only do I want to finish it because it has stuck in my head all of these years, and I hold a true curiosity of how it ends, but also perhaps finishing it will allow me to stop this pattern of not finishing books. Except for that bottom one. Nope.
5th: Notes from the Underground. It's really good, the bit of it I have read I've truly enjoyed - though being a classic I guess this is a given. Plus Matt was asking me about it a month or so ago, so I'll have someone to discuss it with once I'm done in addition to my parents. Bonus.

I also have A Young Doctor's Notebook and Twelve Chairs on my list for Russian ones, and Howards End (EM Forster) in English.

any other good reads I should get to this year?