These nights are not designed for sleep.
Seriously. The heat. I've tried everything. Just a sheet, no sheet, no clothes, damp clothes, fan on low, fan on high, fat pillow, thin pillow, pillow at the foot of the bed, pillow thrown across the room, et cetera. Finally I took the pillow, sheet, and a book downstairs, where I lay on the couch in the dark with the doors to the garden wide open, imagining with extreme paranoia that as soon as I closed my eyes and drifted off, the living room would be invaded by burglars and raccoons, and burglars in raccoon masks. And mosquitoes. Perhaps it was lucky, then, that I never did drift off. Instead I got up and made a cup of tea at around 4:30AM, and watched Inspector Morse (fan on high), and thought about the beach.
I went to the beach yesterday with Kim and Ciaran. The tide had come all the way in when we got there and the water was just cold enough to be refreshing, but still absurdly warm. I swam to where I could only touch the bottom with the tips on my toes, so that every time a wave came I had to float with it to keep my head above water. Then we lay in the sun for a long time and went for Indian food.
Vancouver is so perfect sometimes. It knocks me on my ass.
But back to how uncomfortable I am, and tired.
Why do the mosquitoes love me above all? I have something like sixty-four mosquito bites on each leg. Each time I try to do a final count I start gnawing at my thigh and lose track. And I can hear the bugs, at night, orbiting me. I am the center of their world. I'm like Bender in that episode of Futurama where he floats through space and tiny people make a world on his stomach, except that I'm not so much a god as a planet being mined to death. And I'm all: What about flowering fields, people? The crying Earth, the weeping shores? Elephants? Um, babies? STOP FUCKING BITING ME.
Now for Flickr.
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11 comments:
Yeah....I didn't sleep well at all either. The indian food plus the heat was just a bad buzz all around. what were we thinking with the whole indian food thing on a hot hot hot day? Did we think we would produce sweat and thus cool ourselves like the mid-day african coffee drinkers?
That's exactly what we thought.
I dug the Indian, though. That wasn't the problem. It was the hot air in my FACE was the problem.
Where did you guys go?
Indian food is my favourite food ever. Rain or shine. I am offended if anyone in my aquaintance eats it without me!
Marian, we went to Jolly's on 4th. It was good, but would have been better with you there.
p.s. I QUIT MY NANNY JOB TODAY. I FEEL AS LIBERATED AS A BRALESS FEMINIST.
p.p.s. I AM NOT WEARING A BRA RIGHT NOW.
YOU SKANK! But neither am I.
You guys will just have to get Indian food AGAIN WITH ME.
Also, here is a link to your painting (http://coldtokyo.com/archives/boethius.jpg) because I don't have your email handy. It will be dry enough to transport in a week or two, so I guess you can get it when you come back from the East (COAST)?
This man blogs about squids every Friday.
I <3 the Internet.
http://www.schneier.com/blog/
Holy shit. Boethius is boss. I remember when he was just a little sketch with dogs rubbing their stanky hides all over him.
Squid! WHeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
Can there actually be pancakes soon, please? Because seriously, having to read the title of this post some, oh, twenty times per day is torture.
Burgoo? Saturday morning?
CLAIRE. IT'S SHAWNA. NEW POST PLEASE.
Ineffingdeed. Npp.
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