give them crazy sundials to tell the time

mood: follow the seagulls that follow the ferries, fall horsie
music: overwhelmingly

a secret: on weekends,
i press 'feed' on the register
and draw on the small bits
of paper that come out.

when the bus-driver's voice whines from the speakers above, the wheels have already turned stationary, five cars are piled up across the harbour bridge (crumpled in inbetween; glass falling as snow into the ocean). m. & b. abandon our impromptu excursion and walk into the pale glowing halfnight, their shadow disappearing up the hill toward home & supper. but c. and i are resolute. we sit cross-legged on the seats, eating cashews from salty brown-paper, catching up on readings. (me: in the skin of a lion oddly about bridge building, c: french articles about the economics of industrialism.) and when we finally lurch forward into darkness, i will hold my breath, i will hope for better luck.

fortune cookies.
saturday: you are capable of great creativity.
tuesday: stop searching. happiness will come to you.

a wonderful visit with dad last week and right now, everything is busy & sleepless. but beautiful. monday was birdsong & tweed coats, old-fashioned shoes & humming jill barber because i purposefully forgot m-ipod. yesterday, an empty chinese restaurant, grimm's fairytale records by danny kay, talking about c.'s kitten and the memory of goldfish. and today, a different m. & i went grocery shopping at the asian market for poeticisms of uneven english (i will post the description of 'crispy broad beans' soon.)

i need to review for my canadian lit midterm tomorrow, the last worry before reading week. here are things i would rather do: watch bande a part, drink peppermint tea, walk seven times around the block. write you a letter, tune my guitar, learn to make mochi, re-read miranda july's short stories. bear witness to an eclipse.