Thursday, May 05, 2005

one which is not maudlin


All right then. It's spring but it isn't. I'm sick and exhausted. I now declare it to be over. This messy, sticky gray cloud over. Things are already happening every day, things like...blackberry pie for lunch; the strongest darkest coffee ever; my cheap brown heels no longer hurting; in three days, my job is over; writing 60,000 words. Hello? 60,000 words.

Yesterday I walked to pick up carryout sushi. I wore my bright pink coat and listened to Innocence Mission and swung my bag. I saw the woman in the gourmet store and waved. I saw my friends in the window of the bar and waved. I kept going, though. I had things to do.

I found another plastic flower floating, this one a yellow-centered daisy. Are all graves missing their arrangements? I pinned it on my coat.

I am a character in my favorite TV show. I am a heroine who gets what she wants. I am worthy of your love. I am worthy of writing. Tell me your stories and I will not corrupt them. I am going to make a sandwich from prosciutto and gouda and a baguette and then go into the mountains with him.