Sometimes

You take BART to downtown and sit in a sunny cafe with your laptop and a bunch of people around you doing what people do but in a fairly mellow way and you realize really, life can be kind.

Not just any truck!

 

Tori Amos, "Silent All These Years"

Excuse me, but can I be you for a while
My dog won't bite if you sit real still
I got the Anti-Christ in the kitchen yellin' at me again
Yeah, I can hear that
Been saved again by the garbage truck
I got something to say, you know, but nothing comes
Yes, I know what you think of me, you never shut up
Yeah, I can hear that

But what if I'm a mermaid, in these jeans of his with her name still on it
Hey, but I don't care 'cause sometimes, I said sometimes I hear my voice.
And it's been here silent all these years

So you found a girl who thinks really deep thoughts
What's so amazing about really deep thoughts
Boy you best pray that I bleed real soon
How's that thought for you
My scream got lost in a paper cup
You think there's a heaven where some screams have gone
I got twenty-five bucks an' a cracker
Do you think it's enough to get us there

Cause what if I'm a mermaid, in these jeans of his with her name still on it
Hey, but I don't care 'cause sometimes, I said sometimes I hear my voice
And it's been here silent all these

Years go by, will I still be waiting for somebody else to understand
Years go by, if I'm stripped of my beauty and the orange clouds raining in my head
Years go by, will I choke on my tears 'til, finally there is nothing left
One more casualty, you know we're too easy, easy, easy

Well, I love the way we communicate
Your eyes focus on my funny lip shape
Let's hear what you think of me now
But, baby, don't look up- the sky is falling
Your mother shows up in a nasty dress
Hmm, it's your turn now to stand where I stand
Everybody lookin' at you, here taken hold of my hand
Yeah, I can hear them

But what if I'm a mermaid in these jeans of yours with her name still on it
Hey, but I don't care 'cause sometimes, I said sometimes I hear my voice
I hear my voice, I hear my voice, and it's been here
Silent all these years. I've been here silent all these years
Silent all these, silent all these years

Today's writing

While she undercharged me, I looked at the place where her hand should have been. Her arm ended in a smooth, circular conclusion. It didn’t seem to bother her. She slid my purchases from the conveyor to the bagging area like she’d been doing it her whole life. It was the Bowl. Maybe she had. She had a rhythm: slide, beep, slide, beep. Except when she came to those loquats.

 

Do we forget or do we try not to remember?

 

Editor in the room

I'm trying to make friends with her. I've offered her tea and snacks. The bitch just won't stop nattering.

Also

The Bay Area housing market may finally have succeeded in kicking us out. You heard it here first.

Stuck

I'm not writing. I haven't written in weeks. A month, if I'm honest. And possibly more. It's missing from my life. Missing like something I need desperately. Something whose absence makes things not quite right.

There's a pressure here -- what else can I say in the world? How can I produce something superior to the memoir? 

Can I?

Can I?

I turned 48 today

I have a loving family and my health. A publishing career. Tons of friends and loved ones. I concentrate so often on what I don't have, but today is the day to think about what I do. 

Portland