What does she want? Who knows...The weatherman sounded apologetic about today's forecast, but it's a perfectly nice day. It is nearly twenty degrees cooler than yesterday, but a few weeks ago he would have been thrilled to report a day like today. Who's ever willing to stand up for the weather on days that are being unfairly compared to others? Hmmm?

I'm waiting for Jameso to call, and if he says what I think he will, I'm really going to give him the business. We're running out of time; maybe he'll realize that. I can't believe I only thought of calling him Jameso just now. I could have happily been calling him that for years. Were we all on a bus the day we gave him the pointless nickname he wound up with? I can sort of remember that we were, but why would we ever have been on a bus together? Anyway, Jameso is probably one of those nicknames that only appeal to me.

My pockets are full of scraps of paper. I write notes to remind myself of... I'm not sure what of. Things, I guess. I found these while getting my laundry together:

practicing patience

as if my life were my own without the tethers of others clinging fast to it.

A song is only dangerous if it makes you feel as if you could do the things you should.

nearly asked him to do the opposite of what I did ask him, which is to say the same thing I asked, only a touch different, "there's a nightgown downstairs..."

Tonight I feel like danger. Too many things? Yes! So many things. And then 1000 more.

How did the sun get here so fast? Aren't I as worth saving as the daylight?

I should have saved the last shot for myself. I should always.

The birds are buds again. Remember where you had your feet.

Maybe they should have stayed in my pockets, found after they'd been washed. Maybe if I couldn't quite make out the words I wouldn't think them so obnoxious. That last one is the most useful. I remember how it felt to stand there, still startled because night became morning without warning me, because I wasn't at all sleepy, because the air was cold and I loved it. And touching my bag, but not bothering to reach my hand in, because I knew there was no film left. Oh, crumb. I can't just keep everything in my pockets. Tonight I will be whoever I want to, and not care how any of them feel about it. They'll smile at me anyway. The air will be cold, and I'll love it.

p.s. With every song I listen to, I wonder whether it's the music you meant.