sundays at home are The Best.
long, luxurious weekends are also The Best.
pictures of tea for julie from last weekend are up, in all their large detachable flash-assisted glory.
I'm writing tons and tons, it's just that lots of it is in my notebook. I was talking about that with kristin tonight, about how sometimes it's blogging and sometimes it's notebooking. I hate any hesitation, editing, or reserve of any kind, and it's not even like I have some deep desire to post things because I need someone else to read them - it's just sometimes I'm scrawling away in my notebook and it won't work, and then I type and it does. and other times I'm typing and I can't get the words to shape up right, and I grab my notebook and it all just flows out without trying. I call stuff like that science experiment time. I find it so strange.
my life, forming words, in a petrie dish that's really a fort.
speaking of, the fort's been all shoned-up purty. OrGanIzed. thankfully k-digs started to downsize, and I inherited some bookshelves on a payment plan. it spawned a giant chunk of motivation and now there's all this technical shit off my list. it's been replaced by new, open acres of free space in my head kinds of things, like make a photo album, and get a bunch of rubber cement.
rubber cement, I must take space to note, is also The Best. Ever.
death cab, decemberists, ed harcourt, eels. framed magazine articles about tom brosseau that I took pictures in, torn gently from a magazine, facing a full-page ad for elliott brood, only it's from like, a few years ago. no joke. rouge and tiny lights rewired and wishes on abandoned scraps of paper stuffed in the backs of notebooks, one in particular about watching the stars while driving to be getting somewhere and lost all at once.
I am so excited for new notebook time tomorrow. I couldn't wait for bedtime time to come tonight. and now it's upon us.
sleep carefully, kids.
xx
vvb
(currently in search of a shortened professional name)
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