Smuggling AM-inal crackers in would be harder. I'd have to fit a whole train car in my hoodie pocket.

"PLUG IN THE TOASTER!" I yelled this at myself because had I not, at this very moment I very well could still be staring straight at the toaster plug and pushing the button down again and again wondering "whattheheckiswrongwithournewshinyblacktoaster?" My toast was toasting and I got distracted by and danced around in the strange patterns of sunlight shining into our dark house through the blinds. I picked up my video camera and I've got some new footage now for a project I just now decided to start. And that feels good. Creation like that feels good.


Baby it's cold outside. And also in my house. How do I respond? Less clothing! Bloomers and a vest? Dingdingding! We have a winner! I told myself it would get me to take a shower tonight more quickly, but really it just makes me want to bundle up and nest in my own hair. But that's all I do at home anyhow. That and write shitty blogs, and look at my things, and dance around in disregard of problems. Get me some more of this cranberry/raspberry juice, and make sure you pour it in my eating disorder flower cup.


My very limited Spanish made it possible for me to understand when I watched an older couple on the bus tell a friendly stranger they'd been together for 28 years. The man kept his hand on his lady's leg until she got off before him. I realized I was mirroring him with my body, but with my hand on some green sequined fabric instead of the denim I might prefer. And when she got off I again realized we had shifted into the same position at separate times. One hand in between crossed legs. Not to close to, but close to the knee. We don't know what to do with out hands when we're alone. 


My ears are tired of listening to this. My mouth is tired of repeating and repeating.
And I just want to lay around all day - but where? With who? I think they kuh-no.