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mallorys_cameraDifficult morning. I have a 1500 word article on Arizona’s nexus tax to pound out by noon, the house is utterly filthy (again), the kid and I had a screaming fight because I refused to drive him to school – “I can’t,” I said. “Have you looked at the price of gas recently? I can’t just go back down and up the hill again at your whim and the dogs need to be walked!”
The temperature is back up in the 40s but it’s raining, a dull, grey, ceaseless rain with muted sound effects of an angry howling wind. I should rouse my sorry ass and put on show tunes. Or somethin’. The original London cast version of Chicago (which is the best version of Chicago.)
Instead I am sitting here – not exactly sorry for myself. But feeling extremely dead inside. This is not my beautiful wife.
I’ve really gotta jumpstart myself: There are starving people in India!!!
Nope. Didn’t do it.
I did write a rather wonderful history of the tutu yesterday that ended with these stirring words: In a very real sense, those of us who love ballet owe the ballerina’s fabulous arabesques, battlements, twists, turns and other dazzling footwork to the development of the tutu.
If I just had someone to share that with, live would turn on a dime. A PoMo playmate – we don’t even have to fuck.
I talked to a woman in her sixties yesterday who told me, "I am gettin' the hell out of this place -- I cannot take another winter!" It's hard for me to fathom how it happened that this woman is awfully close to being my contemporary. But yes, another winter here. Sigh...
The temperature is back up in the 40s but it’s raining, a dull, grey, ceaseless rain with muted sound effects of an angry howling wind. I should rouse my sorry ass and put on show tunes. Or somethin’. The original London cast version of Chicago (which is the best version of Chicago.)
Instead I am sitting here – not exactly sorry for myself. But feeling extremely dead inside. This is not my beautiful wife.
I’ve really gotta jumpstart myself: There are starving people in India!!!
Nope. Didn’t do it.
I did write a rather wonderful history of the tutu yesterday that ended with these stirring words: In a very real sense, those of us who love ballet owe the ballerina’s fabulous arabesques, battlements, twists, turns and other dazzling footwork to the development of the tutu.
If I just had someone to share that with, live would turn on a dime. A PoMo playmate – we don’t even have to fuck.
I talked to a woman in her sixties yesterday who told me, "I am gettin' the hell out of this place -- I cannot take another winter!" It's hard for me to fathom how it happened that this woman is awfully close to being my contemporary. But yes, another winter here. Sigh...
