california grapes

to begin, you get no capitalization in this entry, or exotic punctuation like quotation marks or exclamation points, because i'm reporting from my water-damaged laptop. everything eventually restored to full function except for the shift key, which is a real display of attitude on the part of my computer. kudos for rendering me small and monotonous, apple.

some guys are re-stuccoing my apartment this weekend, and the landlady warned us tenants to shut all our windows to protect our lungs/possessions from the flesh-toned cloud of old stucco being scoured off the exterior walls. it's murderously hot. the cats are elongated pelts on the floor. i've been working and writing too little but eating plenty of grapes. california grapes are like candy, i swear i have never had grapes this good in new england. they burst in your mouth and you die from happiness. tonight they are black grapes in perfect bunches like an illustration on a wine bottle.

the tv series boston legal has been robbing me lately of the proper amount of guilt and shame over idleness that i require to be prolific. a dubious crush on james spader in secretary has suffered only slightly since he got chunky and started playing a different lawyer who isn't into s&m. by the way i googled ampersand and copied/pasted that symbol for your reading ease and enjoyment. flippin shift key.

so i'm still wading the bog of eternal stench even though it's decidedly autumn. in five days i fly to atlanta for a week, at the end of which i give a poetry reading at emory. when i get back, i buckle down and start applying to my whopping thirteen mfa programs du jour, while continuing to work, and volunteer, and not buy monthly bus passes. there's not a whole lot of time to compose the great american poetry collection in that schedule, but maybe that's why i'm trying to get into school in the first place. to be offered copious amounts of money. goooo austin.

it looks like my lagging boston legal episode download has about ten sweet, sweet minutes of show time ready to roll, so this is me signing off, eating a grape and ashamedly ogling james spader's waddle. when he's not acting, he wears cool black glasses and has a kind of ira glass thing going on. and there's nothing to be ashamed of in wanting to sleep with ira glass.