stalking:
the beat
bookslut blog
cashmilliondollars
dude. man. phat.
defamer
jane espenson
josh friedman
neil gaiman
tim goodman
molly ivins
listen, lady...
lj friends
mastodon city
pc petri dish
theo's gift
warm your thoughts
wil wheaton
xoverboard

doing:
SMRT-TV
los angeles
knitting
web design

writing:
bookslut
ostrich ink
HEARTtaker
screenplays

reading:
John Bowe (ed):
Gig: Americans Talk About Their Jobs
Gail Simone:
Birds of Prey
Sarah Vowell:
Take the Cannoli
Howard Zinn:
People's History of the U.S.

listening:
kcrw
woxy

watching:
The Daily Show
Prison Break
The Office (US)
Lost
Kitchen Confidential
Veronica Mars

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comments by:
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Monday, August 11, 2003

It's too darn hot

I come home and melt into a puddle of lazy.

Read a book? Too much effort. Write? Too much effort. Sweating, net-surfing, eating ice cream? Barely manageable. Barely possible.

I want to be bare. Of clothes, of responsibilities, of necessity. Of desire, of dreams. I want to rest. I want to come out of the oven. I am cooked through.

I slurp and squelch like a slug towards the horizontal -- beds, couches, my feet propped up on my desk and my shoulders slouched. I am water, I find my own level. I slide into the heat, into the end of day.

I write these words, scattered and few, and the weight of who I am presses a little less close.

I read a magazine.

I pray for rain.

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