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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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The Demon Who Paraphrases Lennon
And so this is Easter. Happy Easter, my little demons. And what have you done? And what did you do today? I made a big pot of vegetable soup and did laundry with Max at the laundrymat on the corner. I watched part of Annie Hall and I took a shower. I picked up 'round the apartment. I did not celebrate with chocolate or Jesus. But I did just eat a Fig Newton--and they're fruit and cake after all, so I feel vindicated. Another year over. I'm feeling the pressure now. I have to find an apartment in another city via the 'net. I have to give notice on my fabulous little apartment. I have to sort--again!--through my things and cut out what is not essential. (A chore I enjoy--truly--but which I know takes time.) A new one just begun. I went to coffee yesterday with Max and his mom Lulubelle and his sister Clarabelle. I thought not to do it, but thought again, this may be the last time I ever see any of these people again. While it's not a thought that breaks my heart, I figured that I might as well take the opportunities the universe provides. So I did. We had coffee, and then Judi and I walked the four miles to the zoo and talked about family and whatnot. And Judi balanced out the ex-in-laws and it was fine. It was perfect. Praise Lennon I am grateful. I am grateful for John Lennon and for Yoko Ono. I am grateful for Judi, for Lulubelle, for Clarabelle. I am grateful for the storms moving over my little city, storms that leave inexplicable snow on the mountains in April. I am grateful for Diet Coke and Fig Newtons. I am grateful for the memory of Easter egg hunts. I am grateful.
More lies:
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