Notes from Saturdays

I always knew the type of music one chooses says a lot about one's character and mood. But I think the most expressive & accurate reveal of one's deepest truest desires is the type of ambient music one chooses. The background sound that one plays in the hope that the present mood will be transformed. It's a sunny late Spring morning. Outside birds are chirping furiously on the trees. I am in a vicious mood after a long night of being woken up a hundred time by the sounds of the person next to me in their fucking deep sleep, sore from head to toe from running & being generally an unfit shit. I sit down to work & I choose this as my ambient sound: Oldies playing in another room and it's raining. It makes me laugh inside, a bitter sad although not-giving-a-single-fuck kind of laugh when I realize in a world that couldn't possibly be more connected, modern, intertwined & accessible, someone makes a 3 hour playlist to imagine they are in a house on a rain...

I woke up to the sticky dampness of rainy spring mornings; Not a soaked up greyish blue one or a wild & aggressive storm. I woke up to a soft greyish white air that sits all over you like a second skin and spreads a hazy mist on the distant trees. I spent almost all of my life in a humid strip of land near the sea. I sometimes think my body can't rest at night unless it's heavily saturated by 95% humidity. Maybe that's why I'm restless & flaky.  Sticky rainy morning also means no lunatics out there with their jack hammers & hedge trimmers & tree saws & lawn mowers from hell drilling their way into my brain. Only the dripping sound of water on the timber deck, a distant bird, the humming of the fridge, the creaking floor boards upstairs where M is walking between shower & wardrobe.  I remember in the hous e where I spent my teens & 20s, when it rained in late spring & summer, I would drag the outdoor chair under the eaves and sit with my l...

Dear Arthur, I hope you know how much it tears me into pieces every time I tell you I'll be spending the rest of the day working on your job and then hang up and get pushed and pulled into 100 other jobs. Or it might be Adele singing her heart out in the background making everything sound like a heartache. But I do sincerely feel bad about letting your job down day after day. I hope you know that. And I'm sorry I don't know all the things you thought I knew how to do. I think you've figured it out by now and I feel bad about it. & I'm sorry I get confused by bureaucracy, this game of passing the paper tray on, with all so many booby traps, I feel bad about not loving my job, and about hating the politicians, and hating the neighbor with the chain saw, and wanting to scream at everyone every hour of the day to leave me the fuck alone & not leave me alone!  Sometimes the anger is so consuming I get confused by what I've said & what's been only in m...