littoral anecdote

I'm pulling whelks (which in the dream look precisely like giant prawns) and bakery-fresh bags of croissants from the sand at the water's edge as my father has taught me I could. there's a seaside town, all wooden walkways and jetties full of small watercraft– I walk the boardwalk for hours, all the way down the length of it and back again, stopping along the way for little tangential adventures– one of which involves going through racks of old clothing with a longlost college friend, making stacks of things to donate but still loathe to lose the memories they hold. along the way we run across a charming irishman who won't reveal his name but induces us to steal a boat with him, some fascinating and graceful contraption in which we flow out across the water silently and swiftly. a dog comes with the boat, a sweet old girl with silky fur, whom I carry in my arms for much of the later walking. we steer the boat out a ways to avoid traffic and detection and ride along a distant sandbar with standing skeletons of an old forest and cows and an occasional white horse ghostly among the trunks and branches. I flirt with the irishman until I realize everything I say is further convincing him of my rudeness– and then lapse into silent unhappiness, feeling dreadfully misunderstood. just before the dream ends I'm asked by an artist what I do and tell her that I sculpt the negative space around trees.

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saturday morning

yesterday was in the low 80s here in chicago, and last night we slept with the windows open, breezes pushing dreams around, snagging them in giant-size tree branch shadows playing across the grey-white wall. this morning the apartment is full of songbirds’ trills and clucks, the occasional crow calling out in passing reminding me of iowa, and chris’s rhythmic sleeping breaths. we’ve had the flu here this week– hours and hours of bone-deep aches and oceans of fever sweats. the sky inland from the lake is a low slate promising spring storms to wash away the grit of winter. the neighbor hound bellows beautifully down the block at some squirrel or human passer-by. if I keep to sheer description of things in the world out there, perhaps I can circumnavigate that infernal pit of perennial and unanswerable questions, second guesses, equivocations, and self doubt. birds and weather are kinder.

more about me me me

(after LaidOutInLavender and kitty— thanks, both)

100 101 navelly descriptors:
1. human
2. cluttery
3. nostalgic
4. warm
5. halting
6. intense
7. phlegmatic
8. stubborn
9. incendiary
10. hypersensitive
11. walker
12. untidy
13. visually oriented
14. verbose
15. longing
16. occasionally ebullient
17. reader
18. watcher
19. quippy
20. solitary
21. romantic
22. irritable
23. ticklish
24. genuine
25. snorer
26. baker
27. putterer
28. friend
29. little sister
30. depressive
31. diligent
32. unrooted
33. sneaky
34. gluttonous
35. covetous
36. shy
37. fearful
38. ardent
39. geologically slow
40. right-handed
41. undecided
42. baffled
43. wide-ranging
44. sincere
45. solicitous
46. self-doubting
47. avoidant
48. overwhelmed
49. morning person
50. quick & dirty
51. plodding
52. tippy
53. loyal
54. resentful
55. forgiving
56. inclined to hum
57. ageing
58. hermetic
59. cuddly
60. rural
61. costuming
62. competitive
63. disliking ambition
64. ambitious
65. short-tempered
66. communal
67. thoughtful
68. at home with animals
69. resistant to routine
70. worrisome
71. finder of lost things
72. partner
73. grateful
74. unpolished
75. grey
76. sparkly
77. female
78. insecure
79. clever
80. underachieving
81. diversely experienced
82. linguaphile
83. poignant
84. playful
85. smoldering
86. uncoordinated
87. apt to make sloppy pirouettes
88. dreamy
89. impatient
90. dire
91. independent
92. capable
93. empathetic
94. persistent
95. creatively diffuse
96. associative
97. synthesizing
98. responsible
99. tardy
100. intent
101. (!) writer

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Doctor Who

My darling, whose mind works in weird and delicious ways, grew up on episodes of Doctor Who, which surely contributed to those thinking patterns I adore–and which I’d never seen until he introduced me to it just this week.

Last night we watched the episode “Blink“, which scared the bejebus out of me, delightfully. So great. What a treat to discover something new to enjoy.


sometimes a stray comment will lodge in your head, stick there, grow nodules and loopy tendrils, wrap several times around your spinal column, and shoot out the window, through the attic and into space.

the other day someone at work made a comment about “my second-favorite C-word”, alluding obliquely to one of those words we don’t utter in polite company. I wasn’t even involved in the conversation or paying strict attention, but the next morning while driving to work, I found myself listing good words that begin with C– good for various reasons ranging from subjective personal association to outright yumminess, the conglomeration of which ends up saying something or other about the one who compiles them. and with that…

compilation corduroy cupcake charcoal christmas crescent candyland crushes connecticut civility cabernet cyclone chimney children cranky clocks carnival cushions canine calliope columnar chocolate castanets car criminey chinchilla chuckling cousins cranberry confidence cinnamon crickets cookie caldera crepuscular certitude curvilinear candor calypso curtains cockeyed community couch corridor comforter calling card california crucible contagious crockery crass celery caustic cornichon celebratory crest colloidal curl crimson coastline