Day: April 18, 2005

Nicole is half asleep on my bed, her red hair nicely meshing with the jewel-tone pillows. I vote she stays there. (I’ve made her a LiveJournal, fluxamonia). We gave up on my friend earlier and romanced Brian into coming to the hot tub with us. It feels odd to be talking with people while I’m blind, but I’m dealing better with it now that I’m practicing. I have to rely entirely on tonalities and gross body movement. It’s interesting and scary. Brian had an audiophile evening scheduled after, so Nicole and I returned to my apartment without him and settled into recovering from an overdose of warmth. Later tonight is Cafe Du Soliex poetry slam. Kyle will be there in spite of his recent tonsil removal. I commend his bravery and expect to act as interpretor.

Meanwhile, download this. I particularly appreciate the Tetris.

Lung, (alois), is a local photography god. He’s just come back from China and Vietnam, bringing enchanting goodies home. Sincerely I say, go look at him. His photography journal is well worth adding.

I arrived home today when the sun was rising, pre-dawn light scratching against the black, welting it blue. I woke wanting to chew on things, to dig my back teeth in and grind the world between my molars, using my hips to appeal to my beliefs. For the sake of momentum, I suppose I should get dressed and try to start some sort of day, but I’m being caught by interesting things and lovely conversation with delightful people. I’m waiting on a golden man today, his voice on the telephone or his fingers on the keys. Perhaps until then I’ll continue wrapped in a sheet and sitting in a pool of burning star. When my hair has dried, I’ll call him, telling time in the most old fashioned way.

BoingBoing has picked up something I’ve been explaining to people lately, about how we hit the oil peak it the 70’s. When gas prices started hitting a dollar, I began to be curious where on the curve we really were. I hadn’t quite expected us to be so far down the right hand slope.