the zeitgeist of autumn



Oh, it's Wednesday. Early afternoon and lunch has been eaten and still this page stares back at me (not so blank anymore - take that Wednesday!).

It's autumn, or close enough for jazz. I'm wearing socks. Wool socks. They're cozy, hygge even, but I'd rather be barefoot. Only then my toes would be cold (and that's painful).

Oh, Wednesday. Here you are. Listening to Beyonce. Really? Really. And also some Tori Amos and Rage Against the Machine. And Peggy Lee.

Having had such a productive early week (I mean, yesterday I cleaned out the junk drawers in my kitchen!), it's so tempting to just do nothing but read inane Salon articles all day today. I mean, how ever will my generation manage to have a midlife crisis without me reading what one of us has to say about it?

(Short answer: I'm not sure I know anyone who has actually had a mid-life crisis. I think we're once again Golden Era-izing our Boomer parent's non-existent mid-life crises. That shit only happens in the movies. Life isn't a movie. Not even a horribly long, slice of life one.)

Oh zeitgeist of Wednesday in early autumn. I am living in you. And trying to write writing in you.

But I'd probably rather be playing solitaire and trying to figure out what to read next.