the length of the day

They play music in the office, over the PA system. Sometimes it is good, sometimes bad. Tonight I heard lots of old David Bowie and that made me happy.

Last night I heard a song that never fails to make me sad, because it reminds me of the naive, hopeful, incredibly foolish girl I used to be. Which was brought up again tonight, when I recieved an email from someone I really wish just wouldn't write to me. The choice now is whether I ignore this email, or whether I reply and once again state how I simply don't wish to be having these communications.

Other than that irritation, it's been a fairly good day.

I got nervous at a command of God and therefore I went away to write

You will understand when you see me dance. -Vaclav Nijinsky

Sometimes, a man's writing is so personal, so raw and wrapped up in that private world. Nijinsky's diaries seem that way to me. Like something that should only be seen in solitude. They are remarkably lucid in a way, and exist as one of the most thorough documentaries of an artist descending into schizophrenia.

Or perhaps he really was something other than merely human.

the heat soaks into my bones

Summer exists regardless of the calendar date. It is when it's in the 90s, and the pool beckons, and I take along Edith Wharton, Tolstoy, Lermontov, James, or some other such brilliant work from centuries and decades not my own. I read beside the pool until the heat makes my eyes blink, and then I slide into the water, duck my head, float in circles. This is good, this is happy.

I think this time out of the house is what I've been missing lately, and perhaps why I've been so cranky and insane. Not enough sunshine. I know full well that I need it in certain doses, or I start to lose a bit of sanity. I am a creature of the earth I suppose. Perhaps a plant.

The wizard likes the heat, like a snake or a tiger. We laze around, content.

I drove the long way, to buy blackberries and lemonade and frozen pizza. This is summer. I remember the year I lived on Otis Spunkmeyer muffins, ramen noodles and frozen yogurt blended with fruit. It is happy to think of that part of it all.

Called Kevin from the pool but he was out. I missed him, watching a group of my neighbors play volleyball in the water, all tanned skin and black tattoos and girls in bikinis and men in sunglasses. There was music, the radio playing old Phil Collins and random rock music that I sing along to when I'm driving. A few kids running around, and a pair of guys wrestling in the pool, the ice chest full of drinks and a volleyball floating in the water.

My skin has already changed colors from the hour spent outside. I am a chameleon.

You know you're commited to smoking when you buy cartons.

100 degrees outside, and I don't mind really. The water reflects the color of the sky, and the red clay tiles burn my feet, and there is simple joy in being thirsty when you have iced lemonade close at hand.

There's a party later, and I will take the good vodka, and make toasts to my friends. We will run around in Sam's yard, with the christmas lights strung up and swirl like moths.

It's summer. I am glad.

my sci-fi future is slowly coming

If the universe answered my prayers more often, I'd be a wealthy woman.

I want a No Contact Jacket. It's neat. Not only is it vaguely creepy futuristic facist looking, it bites. Brilliant.