And so I'm off on another adventure, albeit a smaller one, and I'm feeling the same pre-takeoff jitters. What if it's not as fun as I think? What if my bed's uncomfortable? What if I feel this cold in my belly the entire time?
Where is all this coming from?
On the eve of departure to a city I've loved with some of my best friends in the world, from which corner of the dark could this anxious mouse nibbling at the insides of my stomach be haling? It's hard to say. Maybe the Land of Transition, well-known by most as a dusky and foreboding place, and maybe also from the farthest reaches of Unhappy Projection, a place I've never been but which haunts me. In any case, it's from a place of what if and of future, and what it needs now is a chunk of good swiss cheese and a nest of roving to burrow into and the promise of a future more dazzling than it's most glorious dreams. Like, one with tons of cheese. And cats in pressed bow ties who worship mice and serve them cocktails and flaming shots dressed up in extra-tiny umbrellas so bright you can hear the colors sing. That's what you'll get, little mouse. So have your cheese, and take a nap. We'll be there soon.
But, my bed's made, and the ukulele's put away, and I'm all ready to go except for this feeling that music might be just the thing to put that tiny mouse to sleep. Maybe I'll give it a whirl, before leaving, just for a few minutes. Because when you sing, you have to breathe. And breathing usually helps.
Love,
Alex
Where is all this coming from?
On the eve of departure to a city I've loved with some of my best friends in the world, from which corner of the dark could this anxious mouse nibbling at the insides of my stomach be haling? It's hard to say. Maybe the Land of Transition, well-known by most as a dusky and foreboding place, and maybe also from the farthest reaches of Unhappy Projection, a place I've never been but which haunts me. In any case, it's from a place of what if and of future, and what it needs now is a chunk of good swiss cheese and a nest of roving to burrow into and the promise of a future more dazzling than it's most glorious dreams. Like, one with tons of cheese. And cats in pressed bow ties who worship mice and serve them cocktails and flaming shots dressed up in extra-tiny umbrellas so bright you can hear the colors sing. That's what you'll get, little mouse. So have your cheese, and take a nap. We'll be there soon.
But, my bed's made, and the ukulele's put away, and I'm all ready to go except for this feeling that music might be just the thing to put that tiny mouse to sleep. Maybe I'll give it a whirl, before leaving, just for a few minutes. Because when you sing, you have to breathe. And breathing usually helps.
Alex
Happy Birthday lovely Alex. xoxo
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