• I started reading The Friend by Sigrid Nunez. At first, the tone was winning. Now it’s turned dark, and I am finding excuses not to pick it up. This says more about me than the book.
  • Received a beautiful pair of hand-knitted mittens in the work Secret Santa.
  • Starting to fully accept that I will never learn how to knit or sew properly because I would rather read or take a bath.
  • Icelanders seem to eat more sauces than Americans, and I do understand why. Mmmm.
  • The new house (yup, we finally bought a house) has got lovely acoustics in the living room. Singing along with the radio, I’m chuffed – even cocky. Who cares if it’s merely room shape – I’ll take it.


Sounds: Before and now

In the morning—
Street-sweepers—the thick, slapping sound of brushes sliding against wet pavement.

Birds singing in the forest behind the house.

Birds owned by my neighbor in the apartment building on the other end of the vacant lot.

At night—
Hundreds of bottles breaking, when I lived above a bar.

The rumble and thud of small children running, when I lived below a family.

Jack-hammers humming, when I lived in an old office building on Allen street.

Wind whistling and writhing. Gusts of air pulsing and heaving, shaking tree branches and rattling windows. No pattern or predictability. Just pressure.


I just watched A Marriage Story and then I read this profile and last night I started reading My Salinger Year by Joanna Rakoff. The feeling is like when you have a large plate of well prepared food and are very satisfied and full by the end. But not drowsy.

I woke up early today and spent 15 minutes sitting in front of the SAD lamp and sending a video message to a friend back home.

After work, Ívar and I took the dogs to the forest for a walk. We passed our former farmer neighbor driving up towards the mountain in his beat-up truck. He stopped to say hi on the way down, and I was surprised to hear classical music on the radio.