Well, the first thing I did today was take this super awkward house mirror self-portrait. Today's writing outfit: my favorite t-shirt I swiped in from a boyfriend in San Francisco in 1987.
Maybe he gave it to me.
Twenty-seven years later, it's threadbare, delicate, a spider's web. On the front are the words "White Light/White Heat" and "Velvet Underground." On the back is screenprinted the name "Johnny Thunders," former guitarist for the NY Dolls.
But I don't have to tell you that.
And it was cool enough for a pleather skirt. (I meant weather wise, but the pronoun reference is ambiguous enough to work the other way.)
The day declined from here. I got little work done. I was obligated to be at home to wait for a plumber. Tried to write, but then did things like organize the chips drawer. I hate to say it--but we have a chips drawer.
People ask me why I write in coffee shops. This is why.
Then the plumber came and I had to summon children from their beds at the rock and roll hour of noon.
School has not started yet.
So I took my children on a good old-fashioned urban outing. It had been awhile since my teen had appeared in public with me. Although I probably wrote about 200 words today, that part was nice.
Late workin' tonight, after late rockin' last night, during which I heard this song: