Last night was terrible. It started out fine, maybe even great, but it started to go wrong when K. didn't show up early like he was supposed to, and then went more wrong when he didn't show up at all. Then I helped to make things terrible by drinking too much on an empty stomach. Right now, slightly upstate, I bet A. is thinking the same thing, except for the empty stomach part, because I saw him eat a sandwich. Now I just don't know what. I keep trying not to think about it, waiting for time to pass and hoping that I didn't spoil something that was starting to happen. I really liked the way it was happening. Maybe the most.

Why is it so easy to do the wrong things? Not even the most awful things, but the small things, and never for any good reason, and it's so disappointing. Because it really isn't a big thing at all. I saw something startling and felt something unsettling, and sometimes I feel the need to jar myself out of such feelings by doing something unlikely, and that can be a bad move. And then I decide to listen to internet radio, which I haven't done in some time, and it seems this song is scolding me. The internet is a jerk sometimes.

Now, here are some nice things:
a. I dreamt that I lived in a house that was actually a set, and I found my way backstage, and it was filled with remarkable props, which included life-size models of a variety of farm animals in several poses. There were also huge storyboards covered with scenes from different points in my life, except that it was a different life, a dream life spent mostly in the country or on wooden sailing ships. It was prettier than there are words for, and I was a bit sad when I realized that I'd woken up.

b. I woke up earlier than I usually do this morning, and it was the first morning in nearly two weeks that I wasn't cold. I shuffled out of bed and into that big dark armchair by the window. I drank tea while watching birds hop from branch to branch on the tree that stands outside now. I like this new view. Still in my nightgown and all folded up in that chair, I felt like I was at home, maybe for the first time since the first place. That was a really long time ago.

c. George and I have made plans for tea at a new place. It doesn't really call for excitement, but I'm still kind of excited. We'll wear skirts and do the crossword, so that a certain lie I accidentally told can become true.

d. The Egg and I are going to do some recording for Unix on Sunday. I'm sort of not looking forward to how annoyingly pointless it's going to be. Unix doesn't need us, and he's just going to be bossy about distortion. But! Sam is driving us out there, and it's been a while since I've had good Egg time, and it will be spring, and there will be grass, so I'm going to ignore the annoying parts and just be happy.

e. Now the internet radio is playing Echoes Myron! The internet and I are starting to be friends again. This reminds me of something else.

f. Somehow or other, Francis and I are friends again. Or maybe still. I don't know, but I like it.

g. When she sings it, it sounds like, "a bore can be choosy," but now when he sings it, I can hear that it's, "are born to be choosy." I like it better that way.

h. Someone (George, I think) accidentally took a picture of my eye, and it is the greatest picture of me (or of a part of me) that has ever existed. It looks like outer space. It looks like a dream.

i. Now the internet radio is playing July, July!

j. This list is falling apart, but I'm happier than I was at the start of it.

That's enough, I think.