Lifey

I am tired. Life is lifey. It is late; my husband is asleep in bed, and I am again sitting alone, perched on a stool wearing beautiful lingerie and watching YouTube videos of various music I have loved at one time or another, eating raisins. It's the middle of the night, and I think I probably ought to go to bed, but you know, these raisins aren't bad, and all the old Hotel Cafe videos are pretty rockin. (I'm onto Rachel Yamagata now...)

Oh, husband is awake. "Baby, can you please turn that down?!?" It is a reasonable request, I admit. There are a million things wrong with the scene I am currently sitting inside, the first of which is not the fact that I spent the first half of my life sure I hated raisins.

I really ought to go to bed. Oh, but first here is Ben Harper at The Hollywood Bowl.

Good god, I need to get a grip. YouTube, and moreover, music, will be here tomorrow, after I have gone to bed like a good person is supposed to.

I am confused. I have great compassion for those people who love me, or who have loved me, because I can only imagine what a confusing person I am to love.

I also have this inexplicable lump on the back of my head, and I wonder if I am dying. I mean, I know I am dying, because I'm alive right now, but I wonder if I will die sooner than I once thought.

Maybe. But meanwhile, tomorrow is Monday, and life awaits, and right now...it is time for bed. Still confused; confused, but...happy. Mostly confused about how I can possibly be happy when so many of the ingredients I've been told that coveted recipe requires are missing. Perhaps crazy sounding...but I reiterate, I am happy-ish. And that counts for something, eh?!?

G'night.