It's raining. My house smells like homemade Cortland applesauce and chocolate coffee. I'm listening to "Koyaanisqatsi" again. Another of Norman's Milan Kundera books is lying beside me.
There is an aura of deep and unblemished peace in my house right now. This is the kind of romantic solitude that magazines are always trying to sell you; the kind I've never found in any Victoria's Secret pajamas or cup of General Foods cappuccino; the kind that just sort of has to happen.
Let me get myself a cup of applesauce and I'll be right back...
Am now watching the video of "Koyaanisqatsi," which I received in the mail today. My bird is sitting on my shoulder, singing away. Apparently, he loves it, although I find it somewhat disturbing. It's still raining outside, and every now and again, a wind rises and a gust of wet golden leaves whirls around outside the windows, plastering themselves on the roof.
Need more coffee...
There is no point to this entry. I was going to write a love letter. I was going to write about doing laundry, and about whatever drama I can squeeze out of my near-drama-less life, but I don't want to have to think. Tonight is a perfect night for eating applesauce and staring vacantly into the rain.
Love,
~Helena*
PS -- "Koyaanisqatsi" is beautiful, by the way. I only wish the VCR here didn't suck.