there's been a lot of poetry lately, which seems to appropriate all my headspace so that i can't quite write anything else. there's been a lot of dancing and very little sleep in my recent past, which only serves to exacerbate the problem. i'm halfway through reading frankenstein, and i can't quite convince myself to finish it. all in all, i'm feeling pretty dry. but here goes:


the fog is home, and i find it is a balm. the toomuch sun was making me nervous, itchy, waiting for a tidal wave or an earthquake to explain or make up for it. i'm purely soothed by the flat grey sky, made calm by its familiarity. it is march and the flowers making their shy appearances, the equinox two days ago and summer coming fast. a tree along el estero has fiercely and flamboyantly bedecked itself in white explosions; the iceplant along the beach is beginning to pink. last weekend, my brother decided to stalk our cat along the neighbor's roof. she jumped from the roof to a bin that usually holds firewood but happened to be empty; he followed but did not land so lightly. my best friend was here to visit for her birthday and i'd forgotten two things: how well she knows me, and how annoying that can be. there's no pretence and no chance to evade, we know all each other's buttons and exactly how to push them best. she went kickboxing with us. it was good.