Virginia Woolf: To The Lighthouse; A Room of One's Own; Re-watching The Hours

February #BritishBooksChallenge17

I have been carrying these two books around in a bag with several others. The bag is a summery tote constructed of vintage awning material the artist discovered in France; I am told this by the clerk in the shop where I bought it in Key West a dozen or more years ago. My choice for this month is revisiting Virginia Woolf's A Room of One's Own and To The Lighthouse. I'll rewatch The Hours, too, and see what else is available on the internet and Netflix. I've also been tearing into this goal of writing about the many movies I've seen.

I began rereading A Room of One's Own at the beginning of the month. It's the 13th now. One can just sense how obviously my body is gravitating to moon theme, because the moon theme is tied up with the wolf, and the wolf in this case is Virginia--and do we might as well "Meet Virginia" and meet Little Red Riding Hood sling with her. Then she'll introduce us to Shakespeare's sister, and I'll also tie Aphra Behn into this--because she's the earliest female playwright we meet in the theater canon on the usual. 

The following Sunday: 

Has it only been a week since I worked on this post? Dear god, it seems like forever. 

10 pm. I can read a few pages? I can write a few sentences? I'm thankful at any point that my writing process comes back. 

Tuesday. Bookstore. 

Pile. Photo.

Unprocessed photo. 

Sunday. The Oscars have been on. I have mostly been working on my at home yoga practice. (This is like a chorus I have already written into other pieces this evening that I am working on.) It is two days before the end of the month. It occurs to me again that I had wanted to rewatch The Hours. Didn't The Hours win Oscars? I remember it came out at a time I was really into the literary and its adaptations--it must have been during my first Master's?

I will maybe not be fitting in rewatching it, or I will maybe be watching some clips in the coming days. Then again, I will maybe set my attention on fitting that in, now that I've thought again about my first Master's. That was such a highly productive, systematic, and thoroughly attentive period for me. Is this project one of heartening back to that? It's been over a decade and a half--all my systems have changed. 

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I'm in the hair salon. "Hair salon" isn't a phrase I really default to. 

"The name of the movie is The Hours."

This isn't the writing style I was intending to use: those two shirt paragraphs above were supposed to be long paragraphs; they were supposed to draw connections and finally explain where writing had gone. HALT. That sentence was going in an even further different explaining. 

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At the rate rhat no writing is arriving, I hate everything, and it is even difficult to like whatever I decided to write about: if that's all I ever get around to writing about, well--then that's treating it too precious. I hate precious.

So just then i was up to resentment, and maybe that has progressed to hate, and all that that's doing is giving me a sugar craving for the organic candy bar I had taken out of my bag earlier. Sugary food cravings sometimes seem like a death wish.