what is in the air? is it a white balloon?

I am feeling this urge to create something. Do you know what I mean? It doesn't have to be very impressive--it could be a paper chain, or a pasta dish, or one line of a poem that will never be continued. I wrote letters to friends yesterday, and there is something therapeutic in physically writing--in forming the letters yourself on the page instead of pushing a computer key. It's as though there is a different kind of relationship to the thing you're making: it is more personal, more tactile, like painting the walls of a house yourself as opposed to having someone else do it. It feels more like a product of you than an alien thing. Is that horribly self-indulgent?

Nora was also in an artistic mood. 

There were lots of San Francisco things going on this weekend: a Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park, the Castro street fair. I meant to go to one or both of them but wound up having a sleepy, low-key weekend instead. My dad, however, made it to the park to see Asleep at the Wheel and Jerry Jeff Walker. He is much cooler than I am. 

Here are some things I can see from here:

Little Otsu's 2008 Endangered Species of California wall calendar; my birthday is next to the Sierra Nevada Red Fox. Can you find him? 

And, if I turn around--

Had dinner with family last night--that is always a good feeling. Going home after a long time away is kind of like taking a warm bath: comforting, cozy, over too soon. Seemed so strange and so normal. I am always amazed by how quickly we adjust. 

1 comment:

n said...

those white balloon bitches were hella stupid