If Only I Could Whistle I Would Sing That Song All Day

It's Monday, & the fact that no one has ever written a song called 'Monday I'm in Love' is definitely the least challenging of the many mind boggling mysteries I'm amusing myself with today. I bet Robert Smith doesn't even consider getting out of bed on this a silent waiting room of the real week. Poor Monday, I'm sorry to say, but you're not exactly the sexiest motherfucker in the calendar. Though, you know what, a quick peek would tell even a blind that you might just be in mine.

I lead a still life these days. No hitting any clubs, no late night disco dancing with silly boys in pretty T-shirts. No a few too many beers, a few too many words or a few too many capitalized-c-complications. Simple is the key word in this here equation, & there's nothing more simple than a little get together between me, a pair of striped pyjamas & a bottle of white wine. We usually just hang out at my place. (& if any avocados &/or Jason Mraz are reading this & feel like stopping by, they are all equally welcome.) Simple. There I spend my nights reading, writing, sewing, singing or - when my craving for words demands so - snuggled up with a crossword puzzle & a cup of tea.

I'm starting to suspect my body is buffering for what is to come. God knows I'll need it. I'm just saying, maybe next time it could let me know before hand, as it would save in much boredom & a significant amount of wasted cash. Turns out I’m not such a quick learner when it comes to beer & clubs & the drinking of the previous inside the latter. I demand no grand gestures, no screaming or shouting - no kings messengers accompanied by bawling bassoons. Just a small note would do, so that I know that it’s time again - time to once more hide away from the world for a while.

I think I’m happy. It might have a lot to do with the fact that my ticket to ride rests safely in my hotmail account, or that I’ll soon be writing pack lists again. It’s as if the promise of leaving for a dirty south makes the appreciation of the silence & stillness here so much greater. I am mending, I think, & feeling better than in a long time. You can call me an ostrich if you want, I wouldn’t mind. I am taking pride in being one at the moment, developing my skills in the burying of certain body parts unto perfection. & yes, we can have a debate on the subject ’Need there be actual confrontation in monster-slaying-situations’, but not today. Porting my new ostrich apparel I have actually managed to find some peace of mind, & I’m not willing to give it up easily.


But you know, the phones work in both ways. Make my day, let me know you're all ok. If you're going to invest in a brain tumor, you might as well do it by talking to me.

Quote of the day:

'babe, I need a fix of two
maybe an apple
or hands covered in paper glue

(what I'm trying to say is...

I need you.)'

I found this scribbled hastily in ink, above a little paper glued picture of white birds on a black background. The most beautiful thing about it was, the birds were glued in so badly that they fell out of the book & flew away into the night. So I found another picture of pretty birds to replace the escapen ones, & never told anyone about it. I wonder if they ever noticed that the birds in the little black book were suddenly covered in color.

Song of the Day: 'Quiet town - Josh Rouse. 'It's a lazy afternoon; content with thinking that there is nothing to do.' Amen Mr. Rouse. If I could whistle I'd be singing that song all day. (Listen listen listen!)

But as it happens, I can't. I guess I'll have to stick to the knitting instead.

Was it just me, or did the air have a faint taste of spring today?


Peace y'all.


Love


/ D.