Ill at Ease
A problem:<br>
I spent much of this long holiday weekend feeling guilty about not doing any work. I don't really like long weekends. They mess me up, make me feel out of sorts, ill at ease.
Stephen Mejias
Settling
I was feeling good. I sat down on the orange couch, kicked my feet up on my little wooden stool, let my head rest on the soft suede throw, and happily admired my home.
A Full Belly and an Empty Sink, Or: Patience and Wait 'n' See, Or: Fate Ain't Got Nothing to do with My Jonathan Adler Placemats
It's funny because:<br>
Just as Wes suggested — though I so earnestly try to never hold expectations of any sort, and I talk a lot of smack about never expecting anything from this life, I'm really full of it: I have great expectations, and often scold myself for expecting too much — I figured I must have simply been <i>expecting the magic to come</i>. Or "looking for it," as my mom might say. And you can't go looking for it, she tells me. Because, if you do, you'll never find it.<br> Whatever, ma.
Like Fruit Trees in a Frost?
Something was happening. Something I didn't want to tell you about.
Pedestals. I mean: Speaker Stands.
"John says you need to stop putting women on pedestals."<br>
"Oh yeah?"<br>
"Yes."<br>
"Hmm."
Some Serious Listening
So, I figured I should sit down and do some serious listening. [<i>Hee hee. That cracks me up.</i>]
Only Casual, Maybe
I've been listening for fun. With fun in mind, I mean. And it has been fun. I find myself, sitting there, chasing the sounds across the space in between the speakers. My eyes racing, images forming left and right, too much for me to keep up with.
Even Silent
They're very handsome, by the way. I've been meaning to mention that.
Not the Bee Gees, At All
"Are you listening to <i>the Bee Gees</i> over there, Stephen?"<br>
Silly as it may seem, I take Elizabeth's question quite seriously: "No," I say, "But it does sound a bit like it, huh?"<br>
"Um, yeah."<br>
Time to Move On
And Art Dudley tells me, too. He tells me: