boulevard saint-germain

thinking back to nestedness, dwelling in and out of life's possibilities. meeting with a german to discuss the radiation emanating off a crocodile's back and how you measure it. drink plain coffee (you never do that) because that's what he does and damn it if he doesn't make you feel like you're soft.

sometimes when you get a night off all you can think about is cleaning. dust everything. sweep and mop all the floors. water the backyard, spend time working out there in the garden. think that you're turning into your grandmother, your aunt, your mother. it's good when you see these things in yourself.

you've been looking for a long time for the other people, the don't-take-themselves -too-seriously ones: they are not easy to find, they are kind of hard to find in this program. it turns out a few of them were in front of you all along and you just had to go have a few drinks with them, an unexpected invitation. refreshing that they exist. suddenly things seem less heavy.

talk about your writing, talk about your dreams. find that there's nothing wrong with them at all. it's nice to not have to pretend you belong here.

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i've never been one for this sort of thing but i've decided to do nanowrimo this year (national novel writing month.) i need an excuse to concentrate on the only good idea i've had in a really long time and just run with it. so that's what i'm doing. thanks to brian for the reminder that it exists.