(no subject)

[stakebait]

I feel like Frodo. It's Autumn, and I want to go on a journey. Not, preferably, one quite so full of events as his. But it's finally cool and not raining. The air smells of burning and cool wetness all at once, even in the city. The sky is very much bluer and taller and white clouds sail across it in the kind of wind that ought to be blowing my hair back (and actually blows it into the corners of my glasses and my mouth, because I am an unsatisfactory sort of heroine). I want a red-brown horse with a black mane. I want a grey cloak, and wide open grassy hills scattered with rocks that match the overcast. And a road whose next bend is hidden by overhanging woods.

Or, failing that, to scuffle my feet through dramatically colored leaves while wearing a turtleneck and a really good suede or corderoy coat. Preferably while having Deep, Serious Conversations with my friends from prep-school, all of whom have angst and interesting cheekbones.

I am, of course, going to the Ohio Valley this weekend. But I'm not going on horseback, and it's not a quest if you have reservations.

In other news, it is all dotsomething's fault. "We need a break anyway," she says. "Let's just watch the first episode of the West Wing. It won't take that long." And then she goes home and I watch seven more and I didn't need a new addiction, especially one where I'm six years late to the party.

Comments

[stakebait.livejournal.com]

Hee! I loved The Secret History.