Restless tetris is yet to provide a solution to my problem of not writing. Grizelda has left for the weekend, as she does every weekend. This is a handy way to avoid housework, I wonder if that is one of her motives? The Spatula is working at a festival all day so I have, for once, The Peach to myself. I sat for a while at my computer and typed. An hour later I deleted the lot. Its not working today.
Sometimes if I have the house to myself I spend the entire time wandering from room to room examining the state of being alone. Breath by breath it is joyful, woeful, relaxing or the gateway for demons. It is possible that I need this time to rest. It has been a tense week. The Spatula a half-lit firework at the best of times and Grizelda unhappy with the sparks.
I have tidied things and washed other things in the new incomprehensible European washing machine. My chocolate brown silk shirt suffered as a result of hiding inside black jeans. It went through cycle number 4, the one indicated by a t-shirt with two lines on it. It is now stiff, odd and my other clothes are patchy with brown marks. They all hang on racks on the Peach Deck.
I don't know what to do with myself this very moment. I have talked to the cat but she offers no suggestions only yawns, stretches and curls into herself. None of my friends will do this evening. I don't want to sit and chatter yet I do not know what I do want. My brother will be dropping by on his way to diner in the city if he has time. I will offer him tea.
When I looked in my diary and saw two blank lined pages I was pleased. Nothing but what I choose to do, nothing but time to write but I have changed my mind. It would be easy to feel anchored against normal currents of human interaction. Suspended mid-depth while the party ships circle on the harbour above. I don't want to sleep with the fishes.
January was a month of revelations and unexpected encounters. February so far is tense and full of dissatisfactions and curmudgeonly fulfilling of obligations like work, washing and breathing. The person I was last month in the dress and the red lipstick seems to have been replaced with one in ugly track pants with unflattering things tied about her head. I've lost confidence again.
Sometimes if I have the house to myself I spend the entire time wandering from room to room examining the state of being alone. Breath by breath it is joyful, woeful, relaxing or the gateway for demons. It is possible that I need this time to rest. It has been a tense week. The Spatula a half-lit firework at the best of times and Grizelda unhappy with the sparks.
I have tidied things and washed other things in the new incomprehensible European washing machine. My chocolate brown silk shirt suffered as a result of hiding inside black jeans. It went through cycle number 4, the one indicated by a t-shirt with two lines on it. It is now stiff, odd and my other clothes are patchy with brown marks. They all hang on racks on the Peach Deck.
I don't know what to do with myself this very moment. I have talked to the cat but she offers no suggestions only yawns, stretches and curls into herself. None of my friends will do this evening. I don't want to sit and chatter yet I do not know what I do want. My brother will be dropping by on his way to diner in the city if he has time. I will offer him tea.
When I looked in my diary and saw two blank lined pages I was pleased. Nothing but what I choose to do, nothing but time to write but I have changed my mind. It would be easy to feel anchored against normal currents of human interaction. Suspended mid-depth while the party ships circle on the harbour above. I don't want to sleep with the fishes.
January was a month of revelations and unexpected encounters. February so far is tense and full of dissatisfactions and curmudgeonly fulfilling of obligations like work, washing and breathing. The person I was last month in the dress and the red lipstick seems to have been replaced with one in ugly track pants with unflattering things tied about her head. I've lost confidence again.
Comments
I must try to email you about your secret other blog but I'm at the please-distract-me-stage of a confusing email and may forget.