Me gustas tu

Work was, amazing tonight. It was the first time that it had been chill, not awkward, just silent and whispering and laughing, and there was this jazz husband and wife duo that came in and knocked our socks off, her on the piano and him on the trumpet. This weather is sombre...sombre enough for sweet, loud jazz hitting the ceilings.

Foggy weather is a good time for jazz, when the streetlights and houselights get fuzzed over like they are covered in muslin. When that mood strikes me and it makes me want to dance slow or curl up and read Sylvia Plath...ok, maybe not Sylvia Plath, but to read and to stare at the ceiling with my favorite person and talk about future plans. And then, sleeping long, long hours and walking around in socks and making french toast and huddling on the couch together with said person and watching The Office, or Scrubs, or Life of Brian. For the world, and school, and everyone else to just glance off into that other direction, of empty space, like some challenged spiraling satellite. The slightly chilly pea soup afternoons, like today, when the cold fronts push in and and the outside of my car windows get all foggy, rather than fogging up on the inside and the fields down the road are long and tall with hay that bends and turns silver with the condensation beading along the stems, which makes me want to run through and create tiny rain showers with my own chaotic motion.

The same condensation stuck to my bare feet as I walked, out around my house, cutting flowers and playing with the dog and by the time I got back inside the flesh of my feet had turned to green grass. So I tiptoed upstairs and ran my feet under the tap in the bathroom and the shivers got all tangled up in my spine, the well water is always chilly and prickly on my toes. With the radio sitting in the bathroom pumping out piano concertos and talk radio, playing jazz part of the day. When I finally decided to take a shower tonight and wash out my fuzzy braided hair, my shower singing was pushed around and diluted in the water streaming down on me, the tune unclear if someone was to be positioned outside the bathroom. The sleepiness hit soon after that and the warm soup smelled delectable wafting from downstairs as the evening news bleeped in and out. Then that dark blue haze of sleep sort of caught me hanging, floating out in bed ,and pulled me gently down.


Find a job you love. Find a swinging place.