this until evening, which is now and so has yet to be written

Woke up the second time this week to “murph, warm thing is leaving?” Bastard boys, always being so sneaky I’ll let you sleep. Got some groceries on the way back to my box. Nectarines, strawberry newtons, a head of lettuce and some potatoes. Nowt exactly anything to live off of, but better than I had at present. On the phone were some messages; A blast of music that made me laugh, loud and cheerfully spastic, someone peaked thier phone sharing with me music; Sophie calling from Toronto. Package delivered though no-one was home which is a bit too bad. It would have been nice for someone here to have met Joesph, the long haired demon who reminded me that I can always smile and taught me that I will always love; and next was Mike, who I was to be meeting in an hour so I didn’t bother calling back.

There was a tiny bit of drama on the bus. Undercover police arresting two men in the back. The bus stopped and stayed awhile as handcuffs were clipped on and the victims read thier rights. Bit of an odd thing to happen on public transit, but no matter. I wasn’t late. *smiling* Mike was ther already, and I seemed to arrive perfectly on time to help carry heavy silver dishes of meditteranean food out into the garden of Silva‘s yard. Delicious food and sweet conversation involving life and politics under a hot sky. Soup turned into nibbling and watching the black cat stalk an imaginary friend in the lush green. A dark ribbon of feline slinking it’s way through flashes of bright colour, intent on hunt. It’s a treat to visit. After, in the house, identity came up as it often does at her house. I suppose because she’s so good at having one. *grins* She said she was refreshingly surprised at how fluid my life was. Mike agreed and neither one could explain it to me. I think I know a bit of what they were referring to, how I feel sometimes that everything happens at it should, event into people into both. She explained that I was odd in that my private life and my perceived life flow into eachother. My index and my.. drat. I’ll ask later I suppose. It was an interesting thing to consider. I have a ferret eating strawberry newton in my lap right now. I can be forgiven for my faulty memory by blaming the indescribable cuteness.

Turns out it was Mike who left me the message. He listened to it on our busride back. I’ve given him my password so that he canfetch it out of mailbox. Record it off the answering machine with a dial-up modem. *singing singing singing* *solo solo*

The ferret is now chasing Gavinroomie around the apartment. He took his slippers off because of the heat. Apparently Skatia in his four or five years of life has yet to clue in that feet are part of people. He likes biting the tops of feet and attacking toes. We don’t know how to break him of it and we’d like to, but this minute it’s only amusing. “Ow ow! No! Get out of there! Go! Be distracted ! hey!”

Now off to dinner with J.

media links of the day

 Five terrible fake Eve Ensler plays

  1. The Fallopian Follies
  2. The Clitoris Cycle
  3. An Evening Inside My Cervix
  4. The Ovary Improvisations
  5. Chattin’ with My Labia


Artist of the Day : Daniel Martin Diaz

Iconography with a dark heart twist. Eyes upward saints that look sweet enough to french kiss. Oil painted dolls of religious frame, hopeless and wishful thinking, crowned and incomplete. These are paintings that deserve to be set in a house with dark red walls.