an image diary

"And if he left off dreaming about you, where do you suppose you'd be? ... You'd be nowhere. Why, you're only a sort of thing in his dream! If that there King was to wake you'd go out -- bang! -- just like a candle!"

"Hush! You'll be waking him, I'm afraid, if you make so much noise."

"Well it's no use your talking about waking him when you're only one of the things in his dream. You know very well you're not real."

Sunday, April 27, 2008

. . . . . . .


April has not improved. Bought angora/wool/acrylic/rayon hoodie cable sweaters at Old Navy for 5.99 each. Felt justified. Don't own any sweaters anyone would want to wear. Will wear them this season. Today in fact. And all week if I choose. Three days from May we have the heat on. Tomorrow night's to dip down to 28 degrees. The barrel cactus languishes in the sunless kitchen window. I languish in the big blue chair.


If you want to shake your confidence, ruin your positive outlook, make hope look like goo, do the thing you promised yourself and the universe you wouldn't do. Then look around: nothing's changed. That's the worst part, the unexpected worst part. It unveils again your solitary way.


"and what is the use of a book...without pictures or conversations?"

[contact me:]

what o'clock it is


live flowers