it's all talk
3.29.2003
slept in. ate an avocado. walked around campus. visited the library. ran. ate bell peppers and raviolis and lemonade.
im exhaused. ¶ 19:00
im exhaused. ¶ 19:00
3.25.2003
the late afternoon sun yawns and stretches its belly across my bedspread, setting the red paisely print afire. a fan runs softly in the corner, stiring the papers underneath my chair into a discreet rustle. omar sosa's piano fills me up in ways that, as a pianist, i cannot adequately describe. im staring out my window over old colonial homes and naked trees, tracing bumblebee paths across yards and in between laundry lines, dodging brick chimneys, mingling amongst fenceposts. the rest of the world feels quiet, although i know that it isnt - everything is hustle and bustle below my second-floor window - but the simplicity of the moment is vast and comforting. anything is possible now, but there is no necessity, nor urgency... such a powerful feeling.
¶ 17:53
3.23.2003
what a glorious day! green sweaters, crowns, and cowboy hats dance around foss hill as the group of us cut across campus to get groceries. new grass, old fall leaves once again exposed, and crisp, clean air give dave good reasons to click his heels. the light is changing, and its angle nearly fooled me into thinking it was already summer. as we headed back to the house, piled high with bags of spinach, brie, and juice, we passed wesco; lo and behold, their resident musicians were chilling on the second floor balcony, banjos and violins and guitars and flutes in hand; an improvised jumble of celtic and bluegrass echoed off of the brownstone walls. students sat in clusters on the hill, the occasional frisbee whooshing by. ah, california was nice, but its good to be home.
¶ 19:03
