Today I

Today I talked to my mother on the phone about birds for nearly twenty minutes. I have a pain in my lower right abdomen, and I looked up “kidney failure” but it doesn’t seem to be that, thank god. I took a bath and it felt better. I’m reading Joan Didion instead of the book for publishing class on Monday, because I find the Joan Didion more edifying. Last night I watched the Florida parts of “Great Expectations,” but only some of the New York parts. One day I’d like to sit on the steps of the Ringling mansion and let the bay creep up over my toes. Peanut butter toast long gone, hunger is catching up to me.

on my mind (monday afternoon)

1. parasites: problems/remedies/imaginary ones?
2. peter pan
3. certain species of birds
4. new manila folders
5. constellations and my high-powered flashlight
6. certain ideas about spatial relations and maps (male vs. female ‘brain’?)
7. my dragon teapot
8. some other ideas about maps and people
9. platonic ideals
10. how sharks keep moving is still the best band ever
11. how i want to call someone ‘my dearest friend’ out loud because it’s a lovely phrase
12. tempeh lettuce tomato sandwiches
13. my next nonfiction essay- ack!
14. ikea
15. my sister’s watercolor postcards
16. the mail
17. how i love the mail

glad that’s over

Girl, I nearly lost my  mind writing that nonfiction piece. I mean, what was I gonna do, share my feelies? That was like squeezing blood out of the finger of Skeletor.

the problem of seeing the numbers in the dark

In the days before luminous dials, the problem of seeing the numbers in the dark was one which taxed the Edwardians. J.H. Elder-Duncan tells of an electric bedroom clock in polished wood or leather that reflected the time on the ceiling: ‘one only has to press a button and look aloft to see the hours plainly shown on the ceiling above our heads.’

-Hilary Hockman, Edwardian House Style

This is a book I got from the library on a whim, but every few pages it stumbles upon some really devastating images and turns of phrase. There’s something about the Edwardians that was just so freakish and desperate, despite all the painted flowers and whitewash. This author really nails that sentiment with a kind of funny/sad British insouciance. She even recounts the popular suggestion that a woman match the hue of the fabrics in her parlor to the color of her eyes. Unfortunately, I’ve nearly ruined this book by reading it in the bath.

after graduate school

I kind of want to move to Kentucky or St. Louis. Is this weird? Should I want to move to New York or Montreal or Atlanta or Portland? It’s just that Kentucky is so open, and the sky in St. Louis spreads for miles. Anything is possible and there’s room to do things. The feeling of buying a blank journal and sitting down to that first white page, every day. The page where you’re so aware of every sash on T and F, every drop that goes on i and at the end of a wholesome sentence. Even a tree is a surprise.

I watch soap operas. I bake brownies. Normalcy is coursing through my veins.