Since there is nothing else going on in my life, I will write about music.

Is it strange to anyone else that good music comes from Denton, Texas? Check out Midlake and Explosions in the Sky. The Bamnan and Silvercork CD by Midlake is 87% yumminess.

Lazy sunshine

I am slightly addicted to "Metal Detektor" by Spoon. It's the tempo. Makes me think of leisurely Saturday afternoons, inventing adventures, no attachments, lazy sunshine.

A former roommate of mine once pointed out that I like pretty much every Velvet Underground-influenced band and/or song. And it is true. It's the tempo, baby.

Senseless

“Life is no way to treat an animal, not even a mouse.” Kurt Vonnegut

I saw an interview with him on PBS last week. Something about it left me sad for hours - probably his old age coupled with his acknowledgement that the world is so often senseless. Senseless, senseless, senseless.

I want to live in a world without television. Where I am not force fed dreams through my optic nerve.

Amen. Sing it again Sister.

"The conditions of our lives never seem quite right, because our inner experience of them is unsatisfactory." Christopher Germer Mindfulness and Psychotherapy

Easy come, easy go (except for that one tearful episode on the side of the road)

I am no longer the proud owner of a 1987 Chevrolet Caprice Classic Brougham. I did not get a chance to buy a full-length mirror, take someone to the airport, or flee. But I did have a strangely life-affirming moment while driving around my apartment complex listening to the Steve Miller Band. Who could have predicted that? Aside from Maurice, that pompitous-of-love-speaking bastard.

I'm in a vanishing kind of mood - dreamy, distant, disconnected. Everything has lost its weight. If I stepped around a corner at a certain pace, without paying attention, I would disappear within a few steps.

I forget what I want and am then disappointed when I don't get it.

Somehow what happened between us was necessary. I don't know how. Something inarticulate, something untroubled knows this. Perhaps I am just making up stories to soothe myself. Most probably I am.

I guess we'll have this between us forever. It's not the kind of unbreakable connection I would have wished for. I prefer moonlight, awkward mattresses, shadows of eyelashes. Those moments that were sharp and clear. Only those. Those that were biting, wintry, taking your breath away.

I want your eyes to be clear. A sense of comfort or safety. I want to live in a world where I don't have to wish for these things. I don't want to nurse this broken, grey thing between us. But I don't know any other way. So I will always know where you are. And I will keep imagining that it is winter and I am tucking something under your windshield wipers. Something that explains why it was necessary. Something to set us free.

Purring fabulousness

"And each night in bed I thought of her as the moon came through my window. I could have lowered my shade to make it darker and easier to sleep, but I never did. In that moonlit hour, I acquired a sense of the otherness of things. I liked the feeling the moonlight gave me, as if it wasn't the opposite of day, but its underside, its private side, when the fabulous purred on my snow-white sheets like some dark cat come in from the desert."

From Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli, which I never finished because I kept reading this paragraph over and over and over again. And sighing - tongue heavy with the palpability of it.