2001-07-19, 2:32 a.m.

Dancing like an idiot in the dark hall, the headphones on (long cord), the broken steps to the attic hanging down and endangering my safety, if not my sanity, meanwhile there was a massive white storm going on, white sheets of rain and raindust move diagonally across the street in great waves. I waited until everything was soaked before closing all the windows - newly printed stack of invoices utterly pulped, useless, the ink running onto the rug, and I am dancing dancing dancing in the hall, alone in the house, happy and manic, slickened with sweat, the lotion running in a stream down my temple and across my cheekbone, in a big white men's dress shirt and black capri pants, barefoot, clean, alone, dancing, thinking of nothing, happy about everything, agreeing to be just here, just now, a happy little disco party of one.

I put my hair in a clip, flop down on my stomach on the futon bed, scribble 10 illegible lines in my journal, sing to myself, talk to myself, kiss my arm, sigh, lean back, get up, walking into every room for no reason whatsoever, look at the walls, loving the walls, loving my shirt, my back is hurting, I pounded it into the pavement too aggressively last night, out running at 11:30 p.m., refused to get up today, dreamt nothing, loved nothing, loved everything, smatterings of fragments of broken things from protolanguage or ur-ideas in my head, writing something on the back burner, letting it simmer there slowly - I will check back in an hour - writing nothing down, not afraid, today, to lose anything.

I forgot how good it could be. To be me.

I have a million things to do, and I will do them presently. Sorely tempted to drive to D.C. or fly there for the day. My golden California brother will be there this weekend; I have already sent my regrets; but now I regret my regrets - I can still change it - there is so much to do and tick off the checklist - and I haven't made this checklist yet, I put my faith in god or someone for the execution of checklists. I must make lists and I must remember to keep breathing. Eating carrots with ranch dressing, drinking water, cool without ice, taking a vitamin and examining my toes (I hate my toes) and pretty much ready or pre-ready. And rambling, rambling, rambling. It is fine. I feel fine. I am going to go sing a little song, stomach so tight, not hungry, starving for the perfect thing. I am so utterly imperfect and thank god for it.

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