We went to NYC yesterday and I slept with it on my skin. Had red-light dreams and green-light dreams and smell like pigeons and people and musty subway smell. I like the subway smell, except when it smells like pee. I love the gear smell and the rushing smell and the dirt smell, the must of an old underground city.
We saw Picasso at the Met. How one man can reinvent his art so many times throughout his life inspired me. Who says we can’t change? Who says we can’t do the things unexpected of us? Who says we have to stay within the lines and cubes of one style our entire lives? Who says?
I’m dizzy today. Maybe because I haven’t eaten anything. I’m only buzzed with strong coffee. I slept all the way home last night. I slept in. I still feel half-dreamed. I love this state between awake and dreaming. I love it.
I wish all my days could be this way. Writing for hours, staring out at a green tree from the open door, being cooled by the breeze and the clouds blocking out the sun. I wish they could always be this calm.
I’ll collect this. Sway in the happiness. Curl up in it like fleece. These are the important days. Bad things happen so quickly that days like today must be collected in a jar and placed on the top shelf.
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