Monday, June 28

Mug. Hand. Bass.

I've been walking around for two days with a black elastic hair thing on my wrist. The kind that's like a round, stretchy piece of string with a metal bit crimped onto it. I think the technical term I want is 'pony tail holder'.

In Bath, Molly was cleaning out drawers and had a whole cardboard spindle full of them. I grabbed ten or thirty before she threw them away. They're good to put around rolled up t-shirts and boxer shorts. Before we left they were everywhere in her room, because they have the Property of Random Distribution. The Scattered Nature. This is an attribute shared with bobby pins, spare change, and dirty socks.

Bottles behind the bar.

Tonight we went to a pub where a bunch of people were clustered around a soundboard and some mics with two guitars, one violin, a mandolin, and a bass. I sat and drew bad pictures while alien language and familiar music flowed around me. Like a rock, or a moss-covered log half-submerged in the stream of everything that's going on. I was happy.

Maybe I'm hoping the Property of Random Distribution will transfer to me by some kind of totemic or sympathetic magic.

Playing.