( s p a c e

t o

b r e a t h e )
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I woke up this morning repeating over and over, "J is a sadness. J is a sadness. J is a sadness." Now, I'm not sure what I was referring to--possibilities come to mind--but why was I instilling that in my head?

I also had this image of a rapidly burgeoning orange tree, bearing unbelievable amounts of fruit bursting ripe on the vine. So upon waking, I took some vitamin C. And watered my plants.

I want to get better at throwing on the pottery wheel. Not so much because I want perfect forms; I like the forms that come from my throwing now. But just because getting good on the wheel is an exercise in patience and a steady heart. And getting wet and dirty. And because any excuse to spend more time on it is a good one. Molding a spinning ball of clay into a vessel with my own hands is a miracle every time, even if I pretend to be frustrated or unenthused with the result.

I think the sound from far away outside is that of construction. But it reminded me of nothing so much as a beginner riding a skateboard over the bumps in the sidewalk. A large skateboard over big bumps.

12:47 p.m. 2004-05-22�

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