2/26/08

Even when the earth is down on one knee in front of me, proposing, with its diamond-studded blanket of snow glistening hynotically at my feet, I reject it still. Walking home from what I planned on being a half-assed workout, I indeed wound up ‘working out’ some of the surface stress that has been chafing my existence for the past couple weeks. I motivated myself by imagining that each bead of sweat that formed at my hairline was liquid frustration leaving my body in a form that I could see. Tangible stress. Attempting too much weight for my little retired dancer frame, my blood swelled and pounded through my sleepy, worn out veins. I had a heartbeat in my lips and it made me high. And for a while I forgot about the things running back in forth in my brain.

On my way back to Ward I trudged through the sparkling whiped cream on the side walk. Stupid ugly Oakland was becoming hushed and beautiful. The wet glimmer under street lights was almost breathtaking. And I, carrying a little raincloud above my head with both hands, felt guilty and out of place.