music: lullabies for barflies, amelia curran
thought: time slipcurves away and my body is spinning circles; dreams are full of spindles, stars and fairytales
things are happening but they feel right and belong to this mysterious unknown now. so my heart is watching like a child. days become more perfect as daydreams slowly, peacefully come apart and drift off to sea. i treat myself to expensive coffee (hazelnut lattes) and borrowed books (the poems and journals of elizabeth smart). i'm seeing people i never see, saying words i never say, asking questions i never ask. the familiar is thrilling and strange. new. last night, nick, connor and i watched 'lost in translation', ate curry and homemade tiramisu, drank fancy red wine and espresso. this afternoon, i met neta and richard at pete's frootique where we ate samples of otherland fruits and colourful cheeses. neta stole a pecan in her pocket and gave it to me because i'd fallen for its smooth pinkpurple shell. we climbed citadel hill and, sitting on wooden stairs snowcovered with thick salt, we picnicked on pears and smoked salmon. we tried to split a canary melon on our frozen knees because alladin does it so effortlessly in the movie. ours bruised and bounced, leaked juice, made hurt shivering noises against our bones. it was cold though, and delicious.
these stories could belong to someone else. i claim them for my own.
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