Hush or Miss It

In my room, bebreifed and beovened in the afternoon heat/afterwork stupor. Listening to the first mixtape Faulkner made for the Cajun Boys Collective, which I enjoy because it’s so much like a mixtape I might have made for myself, as the best usually are. The day’s weird leftover energy: I wanna go in five directions, but I kinda just wanna sit here too, and let everything else go in five directions for me.

We thoroughly cleaned house yesterday, which is too bad because this week’s heat will likely make it an unsuitable place to do anything (expect perhaps in the basement, which we didn’t clean). At any rate I find that I am more prone to cleaning than I used to be, which is probably an attempt to exert control or feel some sense of stability, away from the stuck-throttle of work.

Work, clean, bass and dream–that is a fair summary of activities outside of the occasional [and current] languor in which I’m composing this blog. Oh, and a daily Neti Pot! Simple pleasures and drastic measures. I may try to read Mary Robison’s Why Did I Ever again, so as to access this feeling of sinewy sweaty NOLAness I’ve lately been pining for in the soft Oregon heat. My friend Penny loaned me the book back in the day, and it was just the ennui I needed then; maybe it will do me right again. It’s funny how the jones for new ideas + feelings always seems to send me to old places…

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