deep as you go i'll follow
Good morning. And it is, I think. I'm on the outside of a cup and a half of coffee with orzata, some pasta with puttanesca sauce and sausage, and Mary Fahl and Marina Belica are singing through the apartment. Earlier, I cleared my little writing desk in the bedroom, and wrote in my paper journal for a while, while listening to Peter Blegvad, and thinking of one love, and later, Eric Schwartz, and thinking of another.
somehow I need to love you
more than I need to breathe
Soren has done dishes, and downloaded weird songpoem MP3s, and puttered about the apartment as well. Quiet industry, before I go into work another weekend day (I'm staying home on Wednesday, so I want to get a little ahead of things by going in today).
Music wrapping around me. . . I don't have the same sort of voice as Mary Fahl, but I love trying to duplicate her rich dark tones. I need to remember to sing more. (Shall I go to the park this afternoon, before going to the office? Decisions, decisions.)
A new year begins. Not in my usual calendar, but I love beginnings, looking behind and ahead, standing in doorways. I love the moments of change, of flux, balancing between past and future, turning....
more than I need to breathe
Soren has done dishes, and downloaded weird songpoem MP3s, and puttered about the apartment as well. Quiet industry, before I go into work another weekend day (I'm staying home on Wednesday, so I want to get a little ahead of things by going in today).
Music wrapping around me. . . I don't have the same sort of voice as Mary Fahl, but I love trying to duplicate her rich dark tones. I need to remember to sing more. (Shall I go to the park this afternoon, before going to the office? Decisions, decisions.)
A new year begins. Not in my usual calendar, but I love beginnings, looking behind and ahead, standing in doorways. I love the moments of change, of flux, balancing between past and future, turning....