Today, I am fantastic. I hope it’s me and not that I just cleaned my house. Or, that since four thirty this morning I have consumed eight shots of espresso (on the rocks).
Selling sexy heels was good for me in that I had to watch how I look. Now that I’m not seen I don’t bother. I’m growing over. I cover up my bests and nothing more.
My ill face is done with show.
Sometimes the sky is not the sky but black construction paper packed and stacked until gravity does not work and that top sheet it floats through space and god and then just light and also it is the carpet in my house.
I am a believer and then a transformer and never too much fun because there is no such thing. I am going to make things bumble. You will see. It is easy, see. Maybe they will not notice and I will be just another. That is also perfect. I am not embarrassed by this or that. I love beautiful things. It follows that it was an aesthetic decision, pretty much everything.
It’s almost four in the morning and I am awake. Seeing as my alarm is set for four thirty (my preference is to teach yoga at six in the morning) I am going to go downstairs and make an iced Americano with soy/rice milk and maple syrup. This mixture makes my nostrils salivate. As the shots pour I will put in a load of laundry. When the coffee is ready I will enjoy every sip while watching Steven Pinker discuss the myth of violence from TED. Then I will shower and pick an outfit, earrings too, that will make me feel calm and confident.
