sometimes you run around like a hooligan and you kick up dust precisely because you don't want it to settle

i forgot to mention that western accepted me this past week. that makes three for three. i'm a little proud.
i'm also proud that i remembered to mail in my confirmation fee to central this morning. BANG. the housing-holding fee will be next once these paychecks are deposited.

the symbolism and myth essay is done. the prospectus for intro to lit is in the works.

i sang the last concert i ever will sing with the chorale at the place of one of our major sponsors. the soloist for "i am the very model of a modern major-general" was doing his bit around the audience, and as he bantered with one of the ladies ("strategy...er, strategy, erm...") she replied in the same manner of the operetta ("'fat'egy!") and the entire chorale laughed and applauded her for striking him mute for ten seconds with such knowledge. i really will miss these rehearsals and the concerts, i only wish i had joined them last year.

it rained. the storm was the nice kind where the clouds settle on the tops of the surrounding foothills and plateaus and you can see the rain in streaks, like an artist had lightly run his brush in downstrokes on paint that hadn't dried yet. the rain came in torrents on the west side and lessened as i drove east. i listened to the airborne toxic event the entire drive before i crossed the bridge, and the mood fit perfectly.

..................

i am almost at the point of asking "why did i fall for you? what did i ever see in you?" in fact, i've asked that a couple of times.
but my dreams last night weren't merely weird, abstract, slightly chaotic scenes where the camera swoops and pans over objects that i didn't even know still lived in the attic. they weren't fragments of memories thrown together by my subconscious, but actual memories. flooding memories. warm lighting; the swirl of colors as you danced with me (and twirled me, always more than any other lead...); the sound of your silly laugh; the sight of catching you looking at me and away; and the sense of touch: i swear i felt your hand enveloping mine again, felt you tilt my head up for that moment-of-eyes-closed, again, felt the heat of you from your embracing me, again.
recounting this helps and hinders me at the same time.

..................

i felt unusually gliding and giddy tonight. i am confident that if i finish my prospectus by tomorrow, i might at least regain improv and swing. maybe not the opera trip, and i don't think that that dance, let alone sasquatch (oh brian! how much longer until i can hear that voice live and breathing into a microphone! oh agonies, ha ha), even remain within the picture frame reserved for "possibilities."

in the meantime, enjoy my hapless mockery of modelling coupled with the grainy quality that one encounters with photobooth. (the entire computer is set at an angle. i might start a revolution.)

"and you ALL may be rulers of the Queen's Navee!"

-d