I watched the landscape inside of a wine glass for a couple of minutes the other night. It varies depending on the body of the wine. Sometimes with heavier reds the legs are thick and strong, sometimes with champagne, they're thin and dissipating, waif-like. I tipped the flute up to take a drink, and ended up transfixed by the bubbles, silhouetted on the surface of the inside of the glass, like a firework on the fourth of July. My fingerprint became a blurring pyrotechnic effect. Then I took a drink, and watched as it all sparkle and twinkle away.
Worth noting, for dinner tonight: Steamed garlic and bok choy, asparagus, and celery with peanuts and sesame-garlinc pork. Mmmm.

I need to go to the ocean sometime soon. I've been feeling too worried late at night when I'm alone lately. It hasn't anything to do with the ocean, which just sits there, majestic. The tide rises, and falls. I am so tiny in relation to that. It makes me feel better. Kind of like the stars, we're just babies. We're just sub-particles of space dust, really.

I move out of this apartment tomorrow. Tonight is the last night I'll sit up late and type a blog at this table, the one with the lion's feet at the base of its legs. The last time I'll sit at this particular table in the old chair from the 1960's, the one that starts to hurt my pelvis after a little while from its steely surface. My friend & I took it from the stage after the 'Man Or Astro Man?' show at the Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Studios in Denton, Texas. I was 19, it's seen above in the photograph. Would I do it now, steal a chair from an space rock show? Probably not, but at the time it fit snugly in the back of my metro and we've been a good match ever since. This chair will last forever, longer than me.

I'll miss these quiet times. So quiet that I can hear the plastic frame squeaking and wrestling against the wall from its balancing counterpoint on the table. Tiny little chirps of plastic while I type.

Ahhh, sigh, I'm such a scared child sometimes. This is better than being homeless. Have I grown spoiled? Am I wicked? I keep moving forward.

I'm going to start going back to yoga, I really am. I'll find the money somehow. if i'm not going to take medication - which I may or may not need, then I need to have yoga in my life, I think.