exit signs

+ i do miss what i used to do, but it's not like that. i miss what i did. not who, or where, or how, necessarily. but what i did, sure, i loved it. i'm not even clear on what i do now.

+ i am reading michael ondaatje, the english patient. it's book that i never thought i'd read. i figured, hey, so many books, that's one i'll never read. at one point, in 2000 or 2001, i figured, hey, stereolab, so many bands, that's one i'll never listen to.

+ i keep my ipod at home, it's my second stereo, the kitchen radio. and on a hot day, i stay downstairs, i read on the couch. i use the kitchen radio. i leave it on 'shuffle', and i don't skip songs anymore, i listen to what i get. upstairs, with the full stereo, the desktop computer, i listen to albums, sometimes on repeat.

+ it's raining and the wind. the pinecones come off the tree next door and hit the patio, concrete tiles. i know what it looks like in surrey, where i was in surrey, the rain in the trees and moss. ferns and small paths.