Sinister: hand me a panini and play my rhapsody....

[Kirsten Kenyon]

  it was cold outside today.  i put on a pale blue cardigan and a 
plaid woolen scarf and just now, out on the corner for a cigarette, 
the wind cut right through and made me shiver.  it felt nice.
  i got up this morning and had the pleasure of hearing richard, 
jeremy and will on the telephone.  i couldn't really say anything...i 
just giggled a lot and my voice was all morning-raspy when i did try 
to talk, and now i feel like sort of an idiot for being so quiet.  
they all seem absolutely lovely.  i was just really nervous....sorry 
about that.  i hope i didn't make a complete giggly ass of myself.
  my dad was yelling at me, for some reason.  after i hung up the 
phone he was gone, and he didn't come back for awhile.  when he did, 
he knocked on my door and we talked for awhile and we both cried and 
he hugged me and i felt like i was five years old, and i felt safe.  
after that, i got in my car and i listened to ella fitzgerald and the 
sun shone through my window and i smiled, and i'm pretty sure my 
cheeks were glowing.  i went into the little read bookshop and looked 
through a photography book for awhile and there were some beautiful 
photos of weddings and windmills.
  it was strange to be at work.  a girl brought in little safety pins 
she'd decorated with red, white and blue beads, and i have never ever 
been a patriotic sort of person, and for as long as i can remember 
i've wanted to get out of the US for good.  but i found myself 
pinning it onto my sweater and, for the rest of the day, glancing 
down at it was oddly comforting.  we didn't play music in the shop 
for two hours.  it was supposed to be a time of silence and 
reflection.  a couple of girls came in and bought candles and a 
sparkly zodiac-sign lighter and i saw them on the street later, 
sitting at the bus stop and holding those candles.  you could see a 
sort of dim glow on every street corner.  it was beautiful, in the 
damp cold twilight.  
  a boy i met tonight doesn't speak english, and i was able to talk 
to him a little bit, very very slowly, in spanish.   i hadn't tried 
speaking it in a long time, and i suddenly remembered my freshman 
year of college when i had a spanish class, and our final project was 
an open-topic paper, five to seven pages, in spanish. my paper was 
called something like "por que yo quiero a vivir debajo el mar," 
which is probably all wrong but it was the best i could do.  i wrote 
seven pages about how much i wished i could live under the sea, as 
long as i could find a convenient way to smoke underwater. we had to 
read the papers in front of the class, and everyone else had written 
about don quixote.  it was quite embarrassing and my professor 
laughed and laughed and said something about jose cuervo helping me 
with my paper.  i don't know what that has to do with anything.  but 
it's not sad and it's not scary.  it sort of makes me laugh.  
  xoxo
kirsten


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