Earth day, even with all the water in the sky, or coming down from the sky, in various forms: sunlight when I leave the house for work and snowing when I get there. Twenty minutes in between, tops. But, still, it was an earth day-- laundry in the morning (okay, more water symbolism) and groceries in the afternoon. I cleaned out my fridge and changed the sheets. Even after six days of working, I feel relatively calm, and didn't lose my cool at work today-- I bustled, kept myself busy, listened to music on my iPod while searching holds & checking in A.V. over the lunch break closure (working a half-day just means that I get an hour of quiet while everybody else is having lunch). I felt solidly in the world.
Ha.
Laundry was its usual awkward proposition, as some guy felt the need -- with all the space in the mostly empty Sparklebright Laundromat, to sit right beside me, so I spent about forty minutes standing up in across from the dryer so I could drop in quarters at the appropriate intervals just to have some distance. Meanwhile, I was listening to the Simone Du Beauvoir centennial special of Writers and Company, which provided me some solace.
Picked up presents for Michael's birthday on Friday after I got off work. Downtown smelled a bit funny, and there was some woman in a wheelchair with a plaid blanket drawn over her knees catapulting herself backwards down View Street while barely looking over her shoulder, using only one of her feet to push off from the pavement. She had ratty brown hair, which could have been another colour underneath. And this wasn't just a couple steps; the woman was parallel to me on the other side of the street for nearly a block before I turned down Broad. I wonder what she was trying to get away from.
Cooked dinner at home, reread parts of Grant Morrison's Seven Soldiers -- particularly the FRANKENSTEIN! chapters, with their purple-like-a-bruise narrative captions ("First over the horizon comes fear. And at its heels, terror. The flesh-eating horses of Mars are restless.") and fuck's sake! Frankenstein breaking up a brutal gold-mining slave ring on Planet Mars just because. John Carter of Mars funneled through Mary Shelley and Harryhausen stop-motion horror! After that I wrote for a while. I'm still going, feeling balanced, feeling inspired, all that.
Somewhere in there I messaged Joy with a scrap of something written about the Fear, for a project that she's doing about people's battles with that vicious demon of the inside bits. I was quite pleased with the end product, dashed off as it was, and I'm happy that I've made it through the day without too much of the Fear on my ass.