Happy List 3/1/10

Bollywood
Avoiding Rear End Collision
Pleasant Dreams
3 Weeks Till Spring!
New Calendar Page
Drawing
The Decemberists
Weirdos
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Happy 12/16

Knee Socks
Boss is at a Seminar!
Putting my hair up
Happy Birthday Fatima!
Xmas lights
Peppermint Mocha Frap
Walking
Seals & Croft
New Project
Duran Duran
Simon & Garfunkel
December
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A Day on My Own

So, I'm home today, all alone. No where to be, but plenty I should be doing. It's the first such day I've had in weeks, and the last one I'll have for a couple of months probably. So you'd think I'd be reveling in it, running around mad with the freedom and indulging a million desires. Or at least getting the chores done, learning lines, getting caught up on all the neglected portions of my life. But no. I am feeling forgotten, as usual. This is not a plea for attention (well I suppose it is in a way since I am sharing with the interweb) but merely my major psychosis, that sense of abandonment and uselessness if not constantly in demand. My only refuge from that, other than the compulsive eating, movie watching and reading, is to dream up some place that I can not be and wish I was there. If only I could paint or draw, I would so much prefer to be able to express myself in pictures. Instead, I have words, the only medium I have the faintest grasp on, talentless hack that I am.

There is a cottage, a lonely cottage in the English countryside, on the outskirts of a small village, made of grey stone with green moss growing in the crevices. It is late afternoon, in autumn and the sky is merely a darker grey behind it. There are oak and beech trees surrounding it, half of their leaves are already lying on the ground and the rest have changed from the brilliant colors of October to the dead brown that means that snow can't be long off. A brook runs just in front of the cottage with a small footbridge for the walkway to the entrance. Inside the scene is much cheerier, the rooms are small, but lined with books and memorabilia from travels, cluttered but clean. A fire is blazing in the central fireplace, and the hard wood floors are covered with thick rugs. Lucifur is curled up on one end of the red velvet settee in front of the fire and I am sitting in an overstuffed matching chair looking out at the remains of the day as the rain starts to patter against the ancient window panes. Shall I close the heavy drapes against the draughts? No, I want to watch the night come on as I wait, patiently, for the sound of the kitchen door opening. For the arrival of the guest that will stay and keep me company for eternity.

10/6/09 Happies

Sean Riley
Jethro Tull
Black Turtlenecks
Garlic Cream pasta
Friday Night
Hope
Knowing that I have made a family for myself from beautiful people that wandered into my life
The Romantic Poets

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6/25/09

• Gogol Bordello "Start Wearing Purple" turning my walk in the parking lot into more of a dance and letting me cut loose for a couple of minutes for the first time in days.
• Getting shit done!
• The prospect of going to Disneyland tonight

Hmmmm....

Ok, so I admit, I'm down. Down down, like Hamlet melancholia depressed down. Why? What difference does it make. But I am making an effort today, even though I feel that the world no longer holds any delights for me and find something to be happy about.

• Reading - I have of late (and wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth) made a concerted effort to limit my tv watching and as such have discovered that I can still read as quickly as I used to! I just finished 2 extremely good books (Pride & Prejudice & Zombies and The Master & Margarita) and the one true relief that I have had been losing myself in these books which I am doing as often as I can.
• Quality one on one time with close friends - Group settings not so much right now, but when I get to actually talk to someone, it helps.
• Lucy

Ok that's good. I will reserve the rest of my escapism for private journals and creative writing experiments and not bore my good listeners with them.

Thank you.

6/3/09 Happy

"Cloudy" by Simon & Garfunkel
Thunder
Walking
Butterflies
Alice Cooper
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