Finally taking that bike ride in red tights feel alive and forget you, forgive me I hate this consciousness-stream as much as you do.

Just finished editing a friend's portfolio for writing school and I am so happy to be living and going to take a bike ride fuck grammar and becoming an editor second nature for an asshole, I guess proud to be this asshole and feel like I'm doing something. I miss Cecilia's presence and writing and even the parts of her that annoy the shit out of me that's love

Lost, maybe.

Currently, I'm listening to Juana Molina's entire posted album, nearly wondering where I am.

EDITED, DELETED, thank you, the entry that was here formerly is gone, haha.

<- This instead. Labeling (!): <-Duchamp (pictured above) <--and his phallic chess (pictured below him) Look at those bishops. EW. That's commentary.

Accompanying quote I agree with: "I am still a victim of chess. It has all the beauty of art -- and much more. It cannot be commercialized..."

Happy/Merry Xmas!

Jupiter police blotter:

VANDALISM

-Someone used a permanent marker and crayon to write "slow down"and scribble all over a vehicle in the 1200 block of Mohican Boulevard.

-A man scratched the refrigerator of a home in the 100 block of Waterford Drive after getting into an argument with his estranged wife. He left the residence without incident.

AUTO BURGLARY

-Someone entered an unlocked vehicle in the 3700 block of Dunes Road and rummaged through the glove box. The only item taken was a can of deodorant.

-Someone entered two vehicles in the 600 block of Flotilla Lane and stole a handicapped parking permit from one vehicle...

THEFT

-A bottle of wine and a muffin worth a total of $12.19 were stolen from a drugstore in the 2400 block of PGA Boulevard.

Wishing you a sweet-smelling and productive holiday from Florida.

Winter Solstice

I didn't even notice this event pass me by--I guess it's a gradual incremental slip down of the sun, earlier and earlier until this SOLSTICE, the darkest doomday of the calendar. However, there was plenty on my mind. Mainly the eye-watering, snotting cold.

My temperature diary, courtesy of iGoogle, for 12.21.08.

-6 oF : I wake up and check the temperature. Approx. 9 a.m. central time.

-3 oF : I walk out for the first time in the day, experimentally, as I have never felt sub-zero temps just to buy an avocado from down the street. Doesn't really feel any different from walking home late in 9 degree weather. Approx. lunchtime.

-3 oF (or colder) : Attempt to buy a large stuffed frog. (Xmas for nephew) Fail. Miss the bus. Freeze. Decide to cut my losses and eat a decadent choco cupcake with a knock my teeth out strong espresso. Two flamboyant dudes ask me to share their cupcakes. I politely offer up a bite of mine and get a large lime/rasp. custard bite in exchange. Good company and karma.

-something : Wait at the bus stop near the park on Damen, there is a Starbucks coffee cup with a powdering of snow sitting on the bench. I step in a snowdrift getting in the bus shelter.

60-70 oF : Bus. Approx. 5:30 p.m., according to the bus clock.

68 oF : Stand in liquor store talking on phone. I refuse to go outside.

-something, colder : store windows on Division are completely frosted over. Clear glass becomes semi-transparent glass. Store windows look like large street lamps. Approx. 6 p.m.

-4 o F : The people who live next to the road on my street have given up shoveling their sidewalks. I jump from left to right in my galoshes, trying to stay up from sinking into the 4 inches of snow. Brain flashes to images of polar bears on ice floats and stories about Inuit elders sent out to die on pieces of melting glacier. Approx. way dark, 7 p.m.

60ish oF : Decide that I am not leaving the house. Even if it means missing the Metal band Soltice fest downtown. Phew.

**

Today, approx. 10:16 a.m. : ready myself for the trip to O'Hare and 70 degree S. Florida weather. Feeling a bit limp and unwilling to leave and getting ready to pick through my boxed up summer clothes for something to wear.

Adjusting to the City

I was sitting here eating eggs and two short, echoed bangs came from the apartment whose windows face the ones in the living room. Some little yelping noises and then a lot of nothing. Someone beating the carpet? Dropping a few dishes? Why do I always feel like someone near me is getting shot at in this city? And why the hell would I trust my first impulses and ears when my sinuses are so stuffed up that I can't hear anything right anyway? I must really want some justification for my overly-cautious paranoia.

Night Reading

From a man I've never read:

Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom. -Soren Kierkegaard

From yesterday night's library reading:

I'm not so young but not so very old,
said screwed-up lovely 23,
A final sense of being right out in the cold,
unkissed.

-John Berryman, in rare form.

I'm on-(online assignment, gee) assignment to write up about Tallahassee and there are snowflakes (movie-sized) floating down outside my second-story window.

(I feel like I see more snow than my downstairs neighbors because technically, I get the flakes first.
Like my windowsills suck all the snow straight up. Right.)

It's hard to get into character.