Thursday, 3 May 2018

it's raining

I'm in bed, of course - where else would I be? and it's nice in here. I took a shower before I got in* and my hair is very clean. I have four different kinds of moisturiser on my face, and two more varieties on my body, elbows and feet and I feel quietly confident that this strategy will work the miracle I hope for each morning when I rise, not having learned from yesterday, hoping always right up until the moment I see reality looking back at me from the mirror. The sheets are fresh and cool and smooth, it's warm and very peaceful in this room and outside it's raining in that gentle way that will sometimes go on for hours.

There are so many things I want to do with my life and I don't know why. I just know that I want a lot, I want much more than I can have, and I want so much that it overcrowds my imagination and I become massively tired of myself, all these intentions and wishes and wonderings. (God knows what it is that you find so compelling about this spectacle.) I've been in bed here for quite a long time, listening for a while to some favourite music, then reading in the LRB about an exhibition of Mary Cassatt's paintings at some museum in Paris, a topic I have little interest in although I can see it's worthy of being interested in by somebody. I'm just resting here, half-lying-half-curled in the bed, allowing the printed pages to carry my attention gently along while the rest of me slowly restores itself to a kind of equilibrium.

Yes/No Tarot has not been such a good friend to me of late so I simplified matters and downloaded a Magic 8-Ball app. I asked it, Will my life work out okay?
  
*I did dry myself I just didn't bother mentioning it

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