I'm reading nodes and email alternately, folding laundry
while the pages load. It's not even my laundry. That's who i am. I will do what i can for you.
The music playing reminds me of certain relations, certain constellations of people and events, certain times when i played it over and over. Lying in bed with Pauline, comparing bellies, making faces and laughing. Walking through the arched stone pathways at Lancing, to go see James. Singing this very song. That's all gone. But here's this song, lurking in my sister-in-law's music collection as if it could belong to anyone else.
So i look down at the list for today, after laundry:
Calvert people: my name is wrong.
skye | i am coming.
shawn| i am almost there.
miana: thank you
bob: i am sorry thank you
alex: how do i find you?
dennis: how do i find you?
ryan: how do i find you?
josh/beth: how do i thank you?
chris: how do i miss you.
online resume: what is important?
what do i want?
how do they find me?
postcards: tell them it's all right.
So, so, after a shower in the mirror, my body just about looks strong, in a stylized kind of way. But with the clothes on it looks shapeless
to me. And i guess i gotta wear clothes. Even out here. Far away
just isn't really.