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life is changing all the time. all I can do is watch

Right now I’m sitting at a long wooden table on a hard bench on the second floor of the Center of Fine Arts. I came up here with Matt who is practicing for his trumpet final tomorrow. He led me through a glossy wooden door that opened to a narrow corridor of doors, doors, more glossy wooden doors. Matt picked a room. “This one should be fine, except for that smashed mirror.” “What?” Behind the door there was a smashed mirror. I think he picked a really good room. There’s an old window on the wall facing the CFA lawn, the kind that has two layers of panes, one of which you lift upward with some amount of elbow grease to open. Out here at the long wooden table are two windows just like that to my right. Both of them are open to the rather balmy night outside. I was looking down when a warm breeze blew my bangs to the left. Heheh. Every couple of minutes the bruise-colored sky flashes with lightning. At first I wasn’t sure if it was really lightning or if I was catching the reflection of the lamp in the window in spasms. But while I was typing this I was staring straight into the clouds and saw three definite snaps of lightning and for some reason that made me smile. I like dis window I rike dis tabre I rike writing rike a sixth grader.

I love this space. Rain has just started pouring down, warm wind is gushing through the window as people shriek outside!! All the fliers on the bulletin board are blowing upward! The rush of wind through the trees and the smattering of the rain bounces off the walls so that if I closed my eyes, if I had no body, if all I could do was feel the wind and hear the rain, I would think I were being drenched in water.

“the mess is on the inside”

“The idea was this: that at a certain age, a black hole emerged in the middle of your life and everything got sucked into it. And you knew forever afterward that it was there, this dense negative space, and yet you went on. You struggled, you made your money, you had some babies, you got wasted, and you pretended it wasn’t there and never looked directly at it if you could manage the trick. I imagined that this black hole existed somewhere just behind you and also somewhere just in front of you, so that you were always leaving it behind and entering it at the same time. I hadn’t worked out the spatial thing too carefully, but that’s what I imagined. Sometimes the hole was only a pinprick in the mind, often it was vast, frequently it fluctuated, beating like a heart, but it was always there. And when you got drunk, thinking to escape, you only noticed it more.”

Charles D’Ambrosio, “The Point”

a bird nest on a ladder

Grace and Noelle -

I took this pictures of the nest on the ladder, outside the door from the garage. The bird sits on eggs for a few weeks now.

—appa