The Powerbook, a personal response

There is no penance that can calm love and no regret that can make it bitter-The Powerbook by Jeanette Winterson

I’ve been busy,

but,

I have to share with you,

a powerful,

reading experience.

What little reading,

I’ve done lately,

has been spent on,

The Powerbook by Jeanette Winterson.

I’ve read this book,

before,

and yet,

I haven’t.

The woman, the butch:-)

who read this novel,

ten years ago,

doesn’t exist anymore.

She has been changed.

Life,

experience,

pain,

joy,

fear,

love,

transform you.

You don’t notice,

and then,

you hear, something,

you see something,

you read something,

and there it is,

the change,

the new you,

reborn,

from your scar tissue.

This work of Art,

that you saw,

heard,

or, read,

holds up the change for you to,

see.

As, I read this novel,

it reminded me of,

that old Roberta Flack,

song,

or for the youngest of you, the Lauryn Hill and The Fugees version,

Killing Me Softly.

   I felt he found my letters and read each one out loud

I can’t really give you an objective,

opinion of this book,

it was a personal,

and,

visceral,

experience.

I can’t tell you,

it will have the same,

effect on,

you.

But, I can guarantee,

you will get,

something from,

it.

Later girls,

BB

Library visit part II

I’m back,

the sky is now,

pearl grey,

my thoughts are,

much clearer,

and all in all,

pretty positive.

A walk down,

my street,

La Catherine,

always does it.

I still have the parka,

but,

the woolen cap,

is gone,

put away,

’til next winter,

I hope.

My favourite ball cap,

has taken it’s place,

a camel coloured Gap,

State Champions 1969,

ridiculous,

I was four years old in 1969,

still it’s my favourite,

frames my face best,

and looks good,

with the rectangular,

frames of my glasses.

The library was calm,

nice day,

sort of,

people out and about.

I walked from,

St-Denis all the way to Guy,

my heart will thank me later,

I hope,

I was doing a little,

spring cleaning,

of the mind,

the cobwebs,

the stale air.

I was making room,

I hope it worked.

I picked up,

Maurice,

like I said I would,

also a Jeanette Winterson,

I’m sure,

I’ve read,

but,

seems to be missing,

from my bookshelf,

The Powerbook,

must have loaned it out.

I think I’ll read a while,

I don’t seem to have much,

to say.

Later girls,

BB