Lovely Aussies on the roof
Once I shook off a few annoyances, it turned out to be a nice, calm weekend. There were some good emails exchanged, literary, personal, etc, and I went to the farmer’s market and bought beautiful radishes, and I got to ride my sweet yellow bicycle around town. I listened to a bunch of episodes of Marc Maron’s podcast, and I started reading Meghan Daum’s new book. I consumed several sublime iced coffees. My hair looked awesome and I wore a low-cut dress and high heels. There was a satisfying yoga class, with a focus on the spirit. (I feel very much that my spirit is doing all right these days but it is only recently that I have realized it requires regular maintenance to stay that way.) I hosted an event at Word, my last public appearance till after summer. I look forward to sinking almost entirely into the writing portion of my life, and leaving the Author business to those with more energy and inspiration for such self-promotional matters.
And Maud Casey is in town for a few days from DC, so lucky me, I got to talk books and late-30s-womanhood with one of the smartest, nicest, funniest ladies around. We went to Diner on Friday and sat outside and had a nice piece of fish and a salad and some flourless chocolate cake and some wine. I hadn’t had a drink in a while, and I ended up having a couple that night. The next day I felt not terrible but not awesome and it reminded me of when I stopped doing drugs for good, how I kept cutting down until finally I just got sick of waking up the next day (and the next few days after that, frankly) and not being able to be my best and accomplish my goals. Like I just don’t have that much time to spare. SHIT NEEDS TO GET DONE. And now it seems like it is booze that’s preventing me from being all that I can be. (If it’s like, sushi, next, I’m going to punch someone.) (No, I don’t know why it would be sushi either.)
I just want my brain to work perfectly. And I want to devour life.
