Good With Light

Went to see the Hopper show at Seattle Art Museum this weekend. "He's so good with light," Bobby said. Rightly, of course. But I was thinking about spaces, and solitude, and the girl with one glove on, one glove off, sitting at her table alone. Afterwards I went home and finished knitting a pair of socks, made a hot cup of tea and talked on the phone for three hours and it seemed like the whole world was changed as a result. I started to get an idea about what I was afraid of, and how those things about me that I didn't think were that great, for some people, are just fine. I talked so long that I ran out of words, and every sentence was just... yeah. Trailed off, like that. And it was fine.

Then today, the world kept it up, the changing. My inbox , the inbox today was full of apologies and reparations, invitations and flattery, set-ups and meet-ups and love songs and bootlegs and people returning after long or seemingly irreparable absences.

I was been wondering if it was planetary or something. But then I thought, maybe it was the fact that this morning in the car, I sang Jenny Lewis loud (and badly) - you know the song I mean? From her new one. You probably don't... "Trying my best to looooove yoooooou!" it goes... And I am, I always am. Whoever you are in my life, if I love you at all, I'm trying my best to love you. I swear.

I'm wondering what's gonna happen tomorrow, when I bring everyone donuts and letters about raises? And did you know there's a song in the world called "Letter to Heather"? I didn't, until last night. So pretty. I'm trying that one tomorrow. We'll see. We will see.