Apr 22, 2002

What a swell day. Had I written here today, I might have shared my thoughts on rediscovering the pleasure of sisters Ann and Nancy Wilson's Barracuda and how I would gladly discover the song all over again as early as tomorrow if it were to be performed by brothers Luke and Owen Wilson on air guitars as the opening act to my morning shower.

And I might have felt awkward mentioning my feelings regarding the androgynous young man and woman who look titillatingly like two beautiful young men when they start making out on their yoga mats and how I don't recall ever experiencing a sun salutation when I was on the elliptical trainer before.

It's possible I would have also written about the exhilarating bike ride home this evening at sundown, trying to beat the darkness, and how some of it was down a hill that when I take as fast as I usually do, I can hear the fine hairs on my earlobes shouting,"We are all going to die and it will be your fault!"

But in tiny little voices that are easy to ignore.

How do you work something like that in though?

And none of that would explain why I find myself covered in beef and glitter with no insight to offer (for now) as to why.

Context is always so difficult for me.

Day 16 stomach tonic courtesy Mr. Trinity