it might've been a fantastic day. at least, our four-hour rehearsal/noodle dinner was great. high-ceilinged rooms all the way to LA yo...and the casals/stern/hess recording of brahms trio 8. which sounds as if they just sauntered geriatrically into some seaside cottage in majorca and played what came mischievously to their greying heads. ugh...but now, lactic acid all up in ma jointz. or at least my fingers hurt a lot a lot. mm. jiawei's finally tucked herself in and away. my plants are dying or severed from their bases. that fragrant aspect of my life is clearly over for now. i need to get a cryptoporticus writing style back. and feeling in my fingers. maybe all my pretty words evince themself in song. pro-blem-atik. momentum.
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hey, i think i miss places where you can slow dance in white t-shirts to fade into you. certains de vous, aussi?