- No one who truly likes to read would organize books based on their color.
- Those who use the term “It’s all good” are most likely masochists. This is perhaps a result of institutionalization.
- If you’re the type who backs into a parking space, then you are not living in the now. Practice presence and pull in front first.
- Sentences of doom many times start with, “By the way.”
- “By the way” is a passive-aggressive conversation segue.
- When innocently uttered, “By the way” is just lazy or tactless.
- The phrase also can be perceived as conversational efficiency.
I’ve always thought it would be nice to be placed under anesthesia before a plane ride. That way, you don’t have to fret over the prospect of crashing or face the slow-moving hours of flight.
Before you know it, you’re in Thailand.
Flying is like having surgery, anyway. After liftoff, the matter is out of your hands. You must rely on a tiny crew, with a single soul at the helm, and you must pray that they know what they’re doing.
You feel woozy at first (when gaining altitude), but then you just go numb, due in part to boredom — and maybe also desensitization. Meanwhile, the wings cut through the air like blades.
Hours later, you descend from the clouds and back to cold reality. Most likely you are feeling groggy and hungry. Or perhaps nauseous. As soon as you land, you call friends and loved ones to announce that you’ve made it through.
Schubert’s notes softly coexist. Variations like an energy field. Potentiality, then sonata eighth notes. Piano — universal life field. Bionetwork notes. I am a C major w/ tendencies of D minor. Do C major and D minor exist beyond the piano or any other instrument. If a note rang out in the forest and no one was there to listen.
My favorite blue towels hang to dry, and I see they are next to threadbare. Over the rack, they seem to have personality (or at least life.) The upshot is there’s still some drying left in them.
After a shower, I get dressed and go to work. I walk across the long street to my office, tired. Back at home, the towels dangle over the rack.
I had mused earlier that the scattered, solitary threads clung to the fabric like jungle animals avoiding a fatal tumble. The threads reminded me of monkey tails. There was also the more disquieting notion of worms on a membrane.
For the longest time, there was construction @ the Jones Blvd./Russell Rd intersection, but t’was a mystery as to who the new tenant would be. Time wore on, and work trucks pushed around the cat litter that is characteristic of vacant lots in Las Vegas. Eventually, the structure began taking shape.
A car wash, I thought? A Jack in the Box? My less cynical side considered the possibility of professional offices, since there were pockets of those in the vicinity.
Finally, a sign recently announced the new occupant in large letters: 7-Eleven COMING SOON! So after countless months of waiting, everyone was pleased to know that there really is a Godot.
Made every effort to avoid my housemate.
Spent most of the day in bed reading, drinking espresso and writing.
I did make a quick run to the bookstore to analyze the difference between Hemingway’s A Moveable Feast as originally published vs. the so-called “restored” edition. I found out the restored edition is largely a sham, with uninteresting filler to aid in the marketing ploy. Filler included a long-winded intro, images of Hemingway’s handwritten notes and a section dedicated to his revision process, which was an absurd addition.
Made popcorn and grilled cheese, as well as an omelet with broccoli, onion & parmesan. Spent 5 hrs in the morning doing chores & errands.
Started a Goodreads account at goodreads.com/cassandra_k.
JS Bach piano sonatas, where the dance across the keys is a carefree & confident one; where notes are like bubbles in champagne during gala conversation. I am happiest with Bach, where nothing could go wrong, tho I do fancy being happily drunk on mimosas to Chopin’s piano impromptu No. 1 in A-flat major, Op. 29.
***
Speaking of which, today’s theme has been oranges, or in general, citrus. I spotted images of oranges all day, and then there was talk of rainfall and orange groves with a friend over a lunch of Thai food, after which orange wedges were served as dessert.
The restaurant host (I assume this was his role) was a very formal man and was well-dressed (in all black) but had the pallid air of a mortician. I was reminded of Peter Lorre, where no matter how amiable he behaved, he still came off as if he were plotting gruesome murder. The waitresses, meanwhile, wore cheerful maroon jumpsuits with golden-yellow flourishes and spoke to each other in their native language.
A waffle would be nice a waffle w/ hot melting butter & maple syrup is good in winter log cabin/greatgrandma’s house soft rug cold cat nose reruns of daytime soaps auntie L watching intently on the sofa Debussy grilledcheese/coffee&cake /reassurance a lift home laughter/gamesofcardsforpennies homemadestruffoli/&/tenderpanettone easy chair&ottomen greatgrandma/mom&dadhappy/me/sister/brother/cousins sandwiches after dinner cordials+cookies long/Sundays & then three flights of stairs down in noisy musty hallway w/ eternal aroma of boiled broccoli and potatoes then home.
Black coffee in espresso cup resting on saucer atop secondhand book purchased for 25¢. In bed I continue reading Allen Ginsberg’s Planet News. Morning outside: the sun struggles against the clouds. Reminded of Whitman while reading. Reminded of proclamations, with Ginsberg’s text stretching from end to end on page after page. Reminded of Ferlinghetti, with text drizzling downward in thin stacks.
