2005-07-13 || 12:32 a.m. || cheese and whine || i haven't been alone so much since i lived by myself in the studio with the big windows on the third floor in albany. all the neuroses have come back, and although m faithfully comes home at a semi-regular time each day, i find myself in the same lonely lady patterns. putting on shoes to spur going outside but sitting in the kitchen for want of a Plan. getting in the car to drive two blocks and decide wherever i was going is not worth the trip/has an outcome my unemployed bank account cannot afford. i talk to the cat. i read snippets from truman capote's biography.* i further my obsession with country music by tuning into The Wolf while washing dishes (i know almost all the songs now. completely unironically at this point, is that how it happens? i am not craving big hair yet, although i have a secret desire to search out a mechanical bull.). i cook elaborate dinners and lean into the table while m takes the first bite, racing to the sink to get him water when it is apparent he does not like the wine i bought. *best book of all time: truman capote by george plimpton, my new hero. it's a compilation of various oral accounts of t.c. from his early childhood up to the bitter end. i love everyone in it. and you hear all kinds of dirt on harper lee and carson mccullers and fancy lads and ladies. books in the summer are always better. is it because you can lie on your belly in grass while reading them? guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |