As it rains---and warms, the trees are going to bud. Before Ground Hog Day. When the ground hog rears its head to look around, it will probably screech and escape back into its hole as it will assume Armageddon has arrived.
For many days, it was as cold in
Angeles as it was warm in New
York. Within a degree. The lemon tree at my Los Angeles house is
dead, probably more from an iron deficiency than from the weather. I wish it
had lived. Dying by lack of iron is a long slow death. Dying by frost is zippy.
I have a book here, Cheever’s biography, given to me by people I no longer care for. It is propping up my computer. Perhaps it is time to spring clean it out.
Speaking of books…it is weird to be of the generation that went from complete paper to almost entirely digital. I long for felt boards, finger paint and craft days.
2013 is the year of Lena Dunham. I hope she is being responsible. She is so smart and talented. I imagine she has made some ass kicking dioramas in her life.
Less caffeine. More sleep. Less worry. More devil-may-care.
What else is there but the planet? Without it, we won’t even have a place to experience time.