metanoia's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The wedding is coming up I think of so many things to write, and promptly forget them.... The wedding is coming up. I found a dress. Tea-length. Everyone else is wearing short/day length. Anything to be different, I guess. It could be that when I asked what everyone was going to wear no one knew and said just do your own thing - tea length or short. I found something tea-length. So sue me. The wedding is coming up. I have made all reservations except one. I have not yet rented the car. That's it. Pretty clean. The wedding is coming up. I ordered shoes which will not ship until April 30 and arrive in 6 to 10 business days. I fly out of here on May 12. Will they arrive in time? Oh, the nail biting suspense. The wedding is coming up. I have to find a hairdresser in La Jolla to do my hair because I will probably spend the whole day at the beach and have beach hair.... Or maybe I'll just do it myself. What the fuck. It's not the Foreign Press Awards or anything. This diary is sometimes a source of disappointment to me. Disappointment is not exactly the word, but the correct word escapes me at the moment. My diary has not yet found it's "voice" if it ever will. Perhaps it is a reflection of the writer, who has not yet found her voice, either. I would have thought it would have shown itself to me by now. I see glimpses, I think, and then it disappears. Then comes back, disguised as a totally different voice. Fuck it. I do what I want. My muse, my muse. My poor muse, who is just a confused as I am. Or maybe it is she who is confusing me. Fuck her too. Not really. I'm sorry. I''m listening to Buena Vista Social Club this morning. It makes me want to be in a latin country, with a margarita or cerveza or both with a loud mariachi band playing for me... It is hot, with a hot breeze. The breeze doesn't cool me, but it doesn't really make it any hotter. The sun is bright and streaming through the slats of the patio covering. The shade is hot. Everything is slow or stopped entirely, including the revolution of the earth and this is the only time and place that exists in the world. Feel the heat. Feel the emotion of the songs. Everthing takes on a meaning, a depth, what is the significance of the buzzing fly? It is significant as I. I shouldn't listen to this music on a workday morning. I feel like a siesta. 8:45 a.m. - 2004-03-24 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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