I think if I ever had children
Which I won't because children annoy me to tears
I think I would want to teach them that they should not be afraid.
I think I'd recite Tagore's views on that issue to them.

I'm on holiday ! And it's lovely. I love the way things look, the way I look. I'm happy with myself and it's a much more demanding thing than one would imagine. It consumes time. I laugh at these little cloud castles and sunny kingdoms. I think I go along out of sheer curiosity. And because of the crazy wild passion. No matter how one looks at it, it's pretty. It's kohl-rimmed old jeans full lips pretty. When we were children we used to feel a very similar kind of freedom. The nights are perfect. The wind at my window knows it and I know it. The floor rises up to acknowledge the deed. Ah joy.
I have found perfect happiness by myself, yo.

I want to marry David Bowie and spend all my time with him on our purple and gold spaceship. Eating candy bars and drinking martinis, we’d watch the universe go by our windows. I’d be king and he, my queen. We could be heroes.

I really ought to wake up earlier on holidays. The mornings are surprsingly beautiful. My late nights are usually inevitable though. But last night I didn't really have a say in it. I remember playing with the cat and the next thing I knew I was fast asleep and so was she. I haven't had a *good* night's rest in so long.
The mornings are wonderful. Sleepy cats and blue skies. Joni Mitchell's voice is clear and bloodied. I have a lot of work to do but I had to take this moment to revel in nothing. I like the way things are. Alot. Some more free time would be nice but I'm happy. I feel bad for people with nothing to do. It sounds contradictory. It isn't. Nothingness, wonderful though it feels for short periods is eventually empty.
There are a million outside who need to be saved. Internet, what will we do about them ?

My morning will turn into early afternoon at some point. I must go make the most of it, while I can. Internet, last night was flecked with the brightest stars. I wish you could have seen it.

I'm fine.
I worry about some people I know. The weather is beautiful. There are loud, physically huge winds right now, at 4 am.
Yesterday I laughed fifteen minutes without stopping and my cheeks felt like they would tear and my stomach hurt like a bitch. It was brilliantly worth it.
There's so much good food around ! I think it's time I got some flesh on the hips. And I haven't forgotten. I'm surprised you thought so.
I have loved this summer with all of my being.
It's called vegetating.

I love the surprise calm of the mornings, especially after a sleep so deep and restful that you weigh more in your sleep. The window was open and it's been raining recently, the consequent breeze was perfect and there was a tiny grey kitten sleepning curled up next to my stomach.
I woke up and my face was perfectly smooth, my skin clear as water and I looked younger. My back was straighter, my body tighter and there wasn't a single pressing issue on my mind.
The whole day lies before me to stretch out into. I feel like spending the day playing mathematical games. It hasn't been too long but I miss numbers already.

I’ve been listening to Jeff Beck for weeks now. Nothing else. I haven’t done this in ages. Listening only to Jeff Beck for a while gives you a very distinct type of perception where your brain sees things like they’re extremely fluid but also very in control.
The weather during the day saps all strength. I sat with my girlfriends on cold stone, drinking a million colourful drinks. Our throats and skin felt dry as paper. Our shirts are paper-thin and the legs of our jeans are rolled up. We circle our ankles with our fingers.
We have nothing to do and we talk in fits. Beauty is a law. It’s a circle which can’t be broken into by those who have ever doubted whether they belong. It can only be walked into with a casual but rock solid awareness of one’s own beauty. Beauty is an absolute.

We sat like two dirty, sticky children who needed to be watched constantly to make sure they don’t start wrestling or laughing for hours over something silly and trivial. Like two children who have excluded everybody from our private circle, who just simply belong and refuse to let other people in. He said he thought he had experienced love earlier, but that wasn’t quite it. With us it doesn’t matter how right or wrong we get it. Like children who value their boredom and curiosity. Who wonder about every inch of the other and spend hours and days exploring and finding out. Days spent just sitting together. Just belonging.
There are too many absolutes in our lives. There are many circles I know I belong in. I have never had any doubts about myself. Somehow I’ve managed to escape many feminine cliques. Sitting with my middle finger meeting my thumb around my ankle. Bright eyes and warm arms.
He’s the red triangle that I’ve chosen to draw around myself. Blue squares that are meant to have a calming effect. Purple ellipses, fat as grapes. Brown polka dots, each the size of a pin’s head. There’s a lot of work to be done and some catching up. The distinct feeling that we’ll spend forever catching up. We’re the thick, luxurious taste in each other’s mouths. Confident of our talent, another thing we don’t feel the need to share with others. We’re the grey skies, that appear when we shut our eyes, with a million pink clouds. We’re the night and all the time that lies in between.