Perhaps I Will Make It So.

I walked in circles 'round this city today. Up and down hills and sidewalks. Everything always looks the same. The same buildings, the same streetsigns, the same sorts of people scattered about the streets. It felt like rain all day. The humidity bubbled and boiled and the air was so still, waiting to be shaken. It was one of those days that just lulls on and then lands flat on its back. It felt momentarily uplifting when the sky finally broke and the rain poured down in storms. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief the first time I heard the thunder crack.

I've been waiting for something to write about but not much has really happened. I am only writing now so as not to chew my nails, as I have finally decided, once and for all, that this is the end of neurotic nail gnawing. We drank Bandol Rose and watched Carnivale. I fear that it will end with far too many unanswered questions. I had previously thought that Rose didn't match Carnivale but was proven wrong this evening. It suits it rather well. Rose would be really good with Amelie too. I wish I knew how to put an accent on the 'e' so that it was clear I'm not talking about a person.

There have been many sudden and strongly felt changes at work. There will be a new manager when I go in tomorrow and I wonder what she will be like. It will be interesting at least, momentarily, to know someone new. But they are always sucked into that scary world of pseudo-authority. Either that or they refuse to be empty and nasty and so instead they leave. It's so odd to be expected to treat people as though they aren't human beings, as though they don't matter at all.

While I was out walking around Juan Copper Top, my lovely boyfriend, wrote a rather humorous but still sad song about my former friend Jack Benny. It was a good song based on a poem written about me by this Benny. They are both about laundry for some reason. I'm not sure why. I love it when I come home to see that something productive has been created. And with Juan I am always immensely pleased with what he produces. I am lucky to be involved with such a brilliant and silly songwriter. What a beautiful Copper Top he is.

But, alas, this day should have been more than it was. It should have built and peaked and lived so long and far outside of itself. I meant for it to be that way. Perhaps tomorrow something will spill out, some important breakthrough will occur. Perhaps I will make it so.