Grand Canyon

WORD OF CAUTION: This video contains one solitary F word.

This morning I spent talking to Hallie, laughing and trying my hardest to persuade her to visit me soon.  The Oregon Coast calls you, sister.  I hear it every day.

I also spent it drinking drip coffee and snacking on a bran muffin from the bakery.  I walked.

I came back to campus and cuddled myself on a couch, falling in love again with the Arctic Monkeys and spending much time in Catcher, underlining and smiling, being inspired, loving the love which only Holden Caulfield offers.

I went on another walk.  The filtering sunlight would not be ignored.

I played on swings.  I closed my eyes and I soared high above land, high above ocean, high above cloud.  I opened my eyes.  Feet collided with ground and I kept walking to the soundtrack of 27 Ani DiFranco songs.

I bought cough syrup.

I went into the bookstore and I lusted after the usual round of lace-clad travel novels and exotic zen writing technique handbooks.  Be proud of me, I fell not to temptation, no  red devil temptresses came home with me.  Maybe with the right help, I can put my literary one-night-stands behind me.  It's a 12 step program.

I passed the playhouse.  Pink wooden sign blared "PERFORMANCE TONIGHT."

My heart skipped a beat and I felt a familiar rush of excitement take over.  A small poster advertised a play called Gin Games, Saturday the 11th and Sunday the 12th.  Curtain rises at 8pm.  Tickets are 15 and 20 dollars.

"I'll take one fifteen dollar ticket please."

Tonight, for one night and one night only, I'm treating myself to history in the making.

A real play.  I cannot abide the anticipation!

I haven't fed my inner theater monster in far too long, and she's clamoring violently for a table scrap.

Fifteen dollars to support the local artist community is fifteen dollars well spent.  Especially because it garners me an evening to myself, dressed up and feeling glamorously cabaret, as if I'm lost in the script of a vintage French Noir film with no way to turn except towards the play house.

Sat in the wind on the beach for fifteen minutes, handwriting this all out.  Laptop began to siren call.  Tulips, A Perfect World, The Package, Eyes Wide Open.....  Writing for the rest of the day until 8pm tonight.

A date with myself.  Sultry and secret.

I'm infinitesimally blessed.

Today the ocean is grey.  The message is mischief and art.

Carpe Diem, lovers.