tulips again

A confession: "The Best Day Ever" by SpongeBob SquarePants is playing. And it's bringing me joy like a cloud brings rain or a womb, babies.

I'm hideously tired and there are dark marks smudged up over my cheekbones.

But on a high note:

1. Discovered a letter from the mysterious, illusive and lovely S.Dahlin in my mail box slot today.

2. Tulips are thriving like weeds late released from the earth amid a gaudy, seeded field. I've started talking about them like some people talk about their cats or their children. Unsettling. There was sun briefly on monday and the tulips and I almost died with happiness.

3. More library books. Including some pretentious drawing book wherein the author goes on about the NATURAL and RIGHT way to draw and how no other way exists and if another way did exist, he'd eat his own liver. Anyway, he's dead now so who can argue with him? Also, checked out the "Infinite Jest" which might be the dumbest thing I've ever done. It's huge. Massive. Writhing full of DFW's sly smartness.

4. Stories abound newspaper-wise and I run after them with a net and try not to screw up or trip over things or catch the wrong insect.

5. Road trip? Not anytime soon of course, but a weekend jaunt is mulling around in the background.

6. Decemberist songs practiced upon the guitar (apologies to neighbors)

7. What are you doing for Haiti? Because for, God's sake, do something.

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I'm learning about LAW stuff and COURT SYSTEMS. So exciting and disturbing (people are awful wretched beings and do murky unspeakable things to each other). I might get completely obsessed. In the meantime and back at the ranch, I haven't made anything in weeks. Well...I made a German Puffy Pancake of magnificent buttery, eggy proportions (I'll post the recipe sometime. Maybe tomorrow)...but no acts of textile-type or drawing. Night is not my time to work on art, but it's the only time I have except weekend (during which I want to write). Someday when I'm old and retired, I'll have my mornings again and my soul will sing.

Until then I'll be dancing with myself. When there's nothing to lose and nothing to prove.

Whhhhhhhhha-ho.

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The cold is creeping bone-wards. I need to make more tea. The tea never ends. All I ever do anymore is try to keep up my body temperature using showers and tea.