Harsh mistress

[vaneramos]

Last night John, Mina and I made a road trip to Toronto. We invaded HMV before attending a gallery show by my niece's graduating class at Gladstone Hotel. Robyn will be moving into her own place with friends near Kensington Market, having decided to live a starving artist's life (but makes enough money working three days a week at an expensive shoe store to cover her expenses). Oh, to be 23 again and know what I want!

I now have all four Rufus Wainwright albums; and Judith, which I first owned on vinyl. Hearing Judy Collins sing "The Moon is a Harsh Mistress" for the first time since my teens was intense.

I have more than I'm used to on my emotional platter. After three days of relatively intense social activity, I spent all morning playing computer parcheesi and spider solitaire. This isn't unusual in itself, but at present feels like a necessity: deep immersion in my solitary comfort zone. Around noon I received a nasty neurochemical jolt, like the prelude to a panic attack. Considering the low pressure system creeping through, I'll not worry about it. If I'm especially kind, I'll submit to a hot bath later, with candles.