Tuesday, April 30, 2013

Life perched on a string of unrelated sentences and disjointed pictures

Good cheer comes unbidden. I have a potent combination of coconut oil and honey in my hair; while this may seem like an unseemly unguent, it isn't. Yesterday, I managed to read half a novel in one day and I'm not entirely unhappy at my inability to be continuous. Once upon a not so long ago, I used to be able to read a novel a day.

I have had coffee, not any coffee but my mother's magical filter coffee. This coffee sings. It makes one happy. It makes one smell things more particularly, more spectacularly. Also, my father cuts me fruit. These acts of infinite kindness that make possible coffee and fruit make me very happy.


Travel has become part of life. It seems to ask for nothing in return, except movement. And I'm a fan of continuous movement. After all, focused thought is a luxurious commodity and I am nothing if not a creature of rare luxury. So, in its lieu, I substitute movement. In the service of such movement, I have been back and forth between cities, and precincts, and spaces, and places. I am now slightly tired. 





In the middle of one unfinished novel, one un-thought book, one incomplete ethnography, one unwritten blog post, one un-purchased air conditioner, one head of un-styled hair, one suitcase of unpacked goods, one case of unpolished shoes, one mass of un-filled forms, and one drawer of unclaimed bills, I seek completeness.








Things feel differently when I try to write them down. Turquoise nails looks turquoise-ier, landscapes sit calmer, noise sounds un-noised. The world looks tamer, and within reach.



This month, I will buy myself a writing desk.  And write myself a life in sentences of mesmerizing beauty.