Saturday, March 29, 2008

Something.

How beautiful it is to wake up sorta early on a Saturday. 
On clean purple sheets and lay in bed for an hour alone. 
And look like a child for two minutes in the morning mirror when you brush your teeth. 
Like grown ups drinking soda through a straw.

How beautiful is it to go outside where the wind whips your face.
And to walk and smoke and listen to Neil Diamond and to have hot coffee in the cold, dumb-blonde winter sunshine and read books and stare out the window where the blinds try to cockblock the light.
How beautiful is the second before you realize you are stuck in a day dream.
Exact happiness.

And how superb is it on a Saturday to visit the flea market & walk out with nothing.
And see the vanilla limosiounes on sixth avenue.
And try to remember to how to spell limousine correctly on the first try.
And walk past the hotel towards home and think about the song where they say its strange to be anything.
At all.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Come back to California, Mali-boo. xx