Man, I never dreamt so hard, I never slept so well...

...dreamin' I was free in life, like mussels in a shell...
Lyrics from an old Tears for Fears song keep running through my head. It's called "Standing on the Corner of the Third World", and it surfaces now and then in my cranial tides, unpredictably.
I finished Richard Powers's novel In the Time of Our Singing last night, and felt moved. It's not a perfect work, but I admire what he tried to do, weaving several large themes of racial woes over the mid to late 20th century in the USA, as well as musical performance experience, with unconditional love and higher mathematics concerning time and relativity. Sounds strange, but in the way of those works that sound improbably mixed, it achieved a mostly successful alchemy for me. It wended its way around, so it tended to surprise me, and it had an organic feel to it, so that I could buy its developments. The barrage of musically-flavored language was a bit much sometimes, but for the characters involved, it was a lingua franca, and Powers sold me on its validity as their form of communication. I hope someone else reads it soon, so I can bounce some thoughts off them.
Good fun at the climbing gym. Lots of moderate leads and warm ups, and a handful of harder routes. Several buddies to work out with. The coach's partner got herself geared up to lead again, and had a good afternoon.
Early to bed, to read more of Margaret Atwood's Negotiating with the Dead, a little bit of a book reflecting on what it is to write.