Wednesday, March 24

Wake up this morning feeling good. Roll out of the overused brown sleeping bag and green wool blanket and stumble into the kitchen through the mixed smell of the open window's spring morning and the floor drain's bleach fumes. Eat half a loaf of last night's salvaged day-old Jimmy John's bread, drink deeply from the milk jug, realize that my domestic wreckage is as incapable of dampening my spirits as is the general shape of my life.

Leaving the house, a brown envelope from England by the door. On the way across the bridge, grackles and a coal train sliding past. Sunlight warm enough to shed the sweatshirt and roll up my sleeves. Campus full of people milling in the warmth, the human form suddenly visible everywhere after months of heavy coats, baggy pants and lumpy hats. The girls are all beautiful. It's enough to make you break out in song. Most people settle for breaking into conversation.

p1k3 / 2004 / 3 / 24