Today I came across a beautiful old farm house for rent on craigslist. It was built in 1906, 1000 sq ft, huge trees, a sunflower field, a dirt road. I sent the link to Steven, his reaction: holy shit, i'm in love. In about two minutes, I had come up with a million things to look forward to if we lived in that house. Of course, it would cost a ton to get out of our current lease and we have a landlord from hell so moving to the farm is pretty much out of the question. But geez louise I wanna live there. In the photo of the place there was even a silo in the background, a silo! It's always a bit disheartening when you get very excited about something and then instantly realize that you can't actually do something you really want to do.
On a side note, I haven't written any poems lately. I think I kinda psyched myself out since having my poem published. It was such an exciting time. Now I want to get excited about writing new stuff. I personally think I need to be sent on a fabulous vacation. You know, to get ideas, to walk on unfamiliar streets that will get my memory a-turnin.
Tonite we went out and there was a heavy snow/rain mix falling pretty hard. I loved every second of it. I acted like it was only rain, not snow. I can't wait for spring.
Song of the week: Transmission by Joy Division
Book of the week: Pigs in Heaven by Barbara Kingsolve
Memory of the week: sitting in a bar in Bellagio, Italy eating marinated olives and salty potato chips, talking to the bartender who then invited me to a party across Lake Como
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