I’m sitting on my chaise in the dark, Macbook Pro in lap, curtains open to the snow outside. Every now and then, the wind catches a loose patch of snow, and it sounds like sand dragging along the ground outside. If you close your eyes, it’s like you’re sitting on a beach at low-tide under a night sky.
I haven’t done this in a while.
The show is over. There’s supposed to be one more interview next week, but at least I can breathe now. I’ve finally had time to clean the house, which is probably why I feel comfortable enough to write.
There are icons for movies on my desktop, ones I’ve started watching but haven’t finished, because I haven’t been able to emotionally invest in them. I did, however, get a chance to watch Cidade de Deus which is the best movie I’ve seen in months, and Constantine, purely for the Tilda-Swinton-as-angel factor.
I realized that I like girls who look like boys. I hope this doesn’t mean I’m gay.
On a sticky, I seem to have written “a small pair of skis”. I don’t remember doing this, or what for. There’s also a phone number there with no name. I want to call the number to find out who it is, but I’d just hang up if someone answered and that’d be rude.
I should call Dan. I should reorganize my photos for appropriate backup. I should be practicing Tai Chi. I should be having more fun. I should be filling out my thought record worksheets.
But right now, I should really be in bed.