Blood Musk

2004-11-21 - 11:51 p.m.

If domesticity had a smell, it would be that of the small motor working. I can't divorce the smell of my sewing machine in exertion from the thought of cookie batter. (It is because of the small motor in the electric beater.) Growing up, the smell meant a production of something in my favor. A dress or a cake. A small motor burning meant that I would get a dress or a dessert. So it is one of my favorite smells.
I took a cool fall when I was standing at a cross walk the other night. One leg slipped beneath me (on a leaf I think), and I did a sort of splits and fell on the knee while the other leg splayed behind me. It was graceful, as far as falls go. I imagined that I looked like Webster when he does those awkward splits at the opening credits to his show. So, I tore up my shoe and put a hole in my tights' knee. I fall a lot. But I wouldn't call myself a clumsy person, I am just careless or unfortunate, or something. Is there a difference between careless and clumsy?
But no man can, or ever will be, as compellingly attractive as a young Jonathan Richman on the cover of 'Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers'. I would like to make sweet with that man, even in his present state, which Zac described as 'sad clown'. I don't care. He is perfect to me.
Three involved coincidences occurred in this household tonight.

Pray for the welfare of all it's inhabitants.