I have a Saturday to myself which is wonderful and strange and pretty much never happens anymore. I am at loose ends. I am unraveling into long trailing tassels because I can. This is lovely. I have three pages left to construct for the summer issue of blossombones (almost done!). I want to read horror novels and write fake personal ads and cook impractical things like elaborate desserts that nobody will finish because there's only three of us. I want to watch black and white movies where dangerous women smoke cigarettes and talk really fast. I want to drink icy cold white wine out of my prettiest glasses and hang tiny white lights over everything and pretend it's a party.
Things I want to cook:
Tiny Homemade Ice Cream Sandwiches
This probably won't all happen at once, but it would be awesome if it did. Also: I don't care what you say about carbs. I like carbs.
*Spellcheck suggests I replace the word "Caprese" with "Caprice" (Ha!) and "Foccacia" with "Moccasin." I would not eat moccasin bread (as both snakes and shoes seem like bad flavorings for homemade bread) and I prefer my salads to be stable, although I am not opposed to a bit of whimsy.
I saw a bunny in the yard the other day and I know I'm supposed to dislike them like all the neighbors do but I like bunnies with their twitchy noses and whatnot. I don't really care if they eat your petunias. Sorry.
poetry and careerism revisited
9 hours ago