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2001-11-09 || 9:54 p.m. || neighborhood. || so. tonight is stay at home and work on the novel night. it has promptly turned into take a lot of breaks and sit around thinking of ways to spiff up the apartment night. and get just almost mortally wounded by psychotic cat night. but. i just took a walk: i love my street. i do not appreciate it. i do not take nighttime walks often enough. tonight i smelled the nighttime blooming flowers and walked on all the cracks in the sidewalk and looked in lit up windows. on one corner are heart-shaped leaves, one for every branch. lonely heart trees. the houses on my street were built in the forties and fifties. the houses on my street have glass-enclosed porches where galoshes and muddy boots are supposed to go. the windows facing the street contain artifacts. baseball trophies and the backs of framed pictures. bobble heads and pumpkins and construction paper bats. in the front window of the house next to my apartment building is a sewing machine stationed atop a desk: perfect. i play a game where i get to pick out a house to live in. tonight it was a tiny one set back from the street under very large mountainy trees. there is a fence and a wee yard and the windows have shutters. i would have small parties there, cars cluttering up the street, and we would all be dressed up sitting on the floor. drinking wine and playing ouija board and coaxing meow meow out from under my writing desk. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |