I occured to me at eight thirty this morning, on my way to the cafe to meet Jefferson, that I am living a semblance of my imagined fantastic life. I bent down four times, I think, on the way over. I was walking. I don't walk enough. I picked up four feathers, one each time. I saw so much sun and light but it wasn't burning and reflecting yet. It will do that at noon, and you'll have to hold an umbrella or just drive. There is a lot of dirt downtown (I mean dirt lots, things aren't dirty themselves, you know that) but you will find just as many patches of green trees. I was listening to Tegan and Sara's "I Won't Be Left". Have you heard it?
I am seeing someone sweet. "Ryan Adams says "I kiss her on her teeth. Don't waste my time. This is it." The truth: I never really got into his music, though I've loved Adams' blog. This week he has been mentioned to me two times by two different people and I figured that was a sign. I ain't wastin nothin bro.
I shared a breakfast cinnamon roll with Jefferson. He invited me to make Mexican hot chocolate with his mother. "You use a meat grinder," he said to me. His face grimaced and he made the motion of his arm pulling the machine. That sounds like something special.