Untitled

lovely

Just finished reading The Lovely Bones and now outside the edges are sharper and smells stronger and sounds louder than they were yesterday.

Once, a few years ago, I seemed missing. A series of miscommunications and not being in the right place at the right time and absolutely no cell phone reception on my end conspired to frighten the people who love me. And their subtle (so as not to alarm my mother) detective work to retrace my steps eventually included enough people that their worry became panic and when i returned to my normal life everyone briefly loved me a little bit more. People i thought i barely knew had made posters to place in a small mountain town and everyone I met for months afterward greeted me strangely-I was accidentally special. And aware enough to know that the excitement of my temporary disappearance made the people who knew me a little more special too.

The prop shop

Today it is "spring" outside with rhododendrons and pussywillows and right in front of the door a forsythia grove.

The psychic's window and the accidental shrine

A phrenological head flanked on either side by a porcelain hand--fingers reaching heavenward. One finger on each hand broken clean off (ring finger on left hand, middle finger on right). Otherwise intact.

Inside the photolab is an accidental shrine to a mysterious, exotic woman. Her face repeated across a display showing the different colors black and white can be on their papers with their chemistry with the light balanced in particular combinations. below her is a glowing red candle and to the left is a frondy, palmy plant.

8/31/2006

Roofdeck at Alma, Redhook: The illusion of being folded inside the cityscape. Clear black night, lower Manhattan sparkling across the river then reflected back in the mirrors that line the far side of the roof. Looking across the table at M and A, enveloped by the peripheral twinkling darkness.