Reverting back to old habits.
I missed my blue coffee mug dearly. Dropped a PG Tip in the dry glass and placed it in my lunch bag this morning; it has been cupped in my palm ever since. And everything feels okay. A while back I made a list of things I would grab if my house caught on fire. I pictured myself with papers falling through the crease in my elbows, every ounce of my being overwhelmed with the amount of stuff I wanted to save. And then I stepped back momentarily. What is worth saving?
To this day I don't think I have a good enough grasp on what I would want. The harder I think about it the more I worry about dying or losing what I love the most and then everything seems so fleeting any how and I don't know if I would take anything.
The highlight of my week was published yesterday, as it is each Tuesday. Part of me wants to read it real slow, like one of those meals you feel guilty about swallowing because it tastes so good. As if it would save my life I hang on every word, anticipating the juxtaposition of the next and the following sentence. I wonder if I applied if Harper's would hire me. Would the Weekly Review lose its hold over me? Or would it be escalated that much further, having a stake in this delicacy?
Sometimes I want to swallow you whole.
Have you noticed the improper use of "good morning" or "good afternoon" when calling a place or being greeted? It's like there should be a bell that does off daily, at the stroke of noon, to notify all of the deft observers of the world that it is indeed "after noon" and to lose the morning bit. Similar applies for the AM afternoon greeters. Clearly it is before 12pm, please refrain from saying AFTERNOON. Semantics. And maybe, if we're lucky, this bell would be not unlike the Pavlovian experiment and the phone/welcome monkeys would salivate precisely as the clock strikes twelve.
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14 years ago
