Have you ever not liked what you're doing?
Felt DESPERATE to get out of your skin? To do something. Anything. that was different than what you're supposed to do? (and presumably if you're mature and responsible) Anything different than the supposed to that you're laboring away at just now?
Sometimes I'd like to live inside of sensuous music like my new favorite magnet or Over The Rhine.
Tonight I feel like ironing hundreds of rows of shirts. Ironing and ironing and ironing. Flying while I'm ironing. And changing into the starchy warm fabric every few minutes.
Sometimes I'd like to live inside of sensuous music like my new favorite magnet or Over The Rhine.
Tonight I feel like ironing hundreds of rows of shirts. Ironing and ironing and ironing. Flying while I'm ironing. And changing into the starchy warm fabric every few minutes.
posted by Redbaerd at 9:15 PM
1 Comments:
The zing of recognition. Why does this post, more than any other today, peel back my forehead and climb into my brain pan to sizzle and stew. Starched cotton is the smell of repose.
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