On the equinox, a cold day with heavy clouds that blew aside periodically so the sun could remind us it was still there, we listened to music outdoors, bundled into hats and coats. Mark even got his photo in the newspaper* (he's a small face among a cluster of small faces, and I am half a white hat to his left). I turned away from the music to photograph our long shadows on the dead, gold lawn behind us.
What else has been going on, according to my "notes," follows below:
Mark, on daylight saving time: "So it's 6:15 but we're pretending it's 7:15?"
I've been forgetting my dreams lately, but last night dreamt a menstrual products company called "Bulletproof Femininity."
An elderly Hannaford employee to me, a shivering 56-year-old woman in the parking lot: "Since I met you I’ve turned my life around! You — your aura — you’ve got a million dollar smile!"
A radiology tech to me on the phone: "Our breasts aren't twins — they're sisters."**
Sunrise Biscuit Kitchen worker, after we placed our drive-through order: "I appreciate you."
An unclaimed belt, abandoned in a bin at Logan Airport security. Why did this seem so poignant?
Lines I liked:
“I like a little sand in my oyster.” — Joan Acocella
"If there is anything I’d enjoy before I die, it’d be not having to see your fucking horrible bastard face wandering around my garden." — Frida Kahlo to Diego Rivera, just before having her leg amputated
"Calm is a form of resistance." — John Berger
“It is a moral failure to miss the profound beauty of the world.” — Lauren Groff
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well." — 14th-century mystic Julian of Norwich
"Quel est ton tourment?"*** — Simone Weil
*DM me for a link
**All is well in the mammary department
***"What are you going through?"
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