I'm preoccupied by what's happening in New York. Each time I type "Cate Blanchett" into nytimes.com (which is the easiest way) it asks me if I intended to search for Cate Blanched. It makes me laugh inside.
There's a small spider living in the lightfitting above my bed. Its presence is creating bad dreams. I think of the child who wakes to find the cat's front paws on his eyelids. The child thinks that the cat is feeling his nightmares. That image makes me want to cry.
In my life there is still angst and dissatisfaction. But where once there was damp grey concrete, now there are shiny white tiles. Number 47 is still yelling into the phone. But Autumn is here, and I feel like cooking.
There's a small spider living in the lightfitting above my bed. Its presence is creating bad dreams. I think of the child who wakes to find the cat's front paws on his eyelids. The child thinks that the cat is feeling his nightmares. That image makes me want to cry.
In my life there is still angst and dissatisfaction. But where once there was damp grey concrete, now there are shiny white tiles. Number 47 is still yelling into the phone. But Autumn is here, and I feel like cooking.
posted by noonie at 8:52 PM
1 Comments:
Sal, the black dog has been circling me all week, too. I think it's a Libran biorhythmn thing. Only this morning the fog lifted a little when I listened to a Hawaiian version of "Somewhere over the rainbow". We should have fun tonight. Everybody Wang Chung tonight.
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