Not QuickJot...Sat, May 23 '09

Groceries done. Tea's brewin'. Hard sunny sky. Windows wide open and fan's on the floor, its face tipped up and blowing cool morning air thru the place, while the cool air's for the getting. Cooling the place as much as I can. Won't be possible later. Gonna be warm out today. And like Death Valley in here, if last weekend's anything to go by. Building heat is still on, past Victoria Day, the long weekend kinda the unofficial start of summer. The building manager's away, just for one more week, and seems we'd rather all bake a little while longer than call the landlord, and have his nosy daughters poking around, chattering summer projects.

Thought to spend all last Sunday writing. No obligations. Everyone away. But the sun blazing all day thru the curtains cooked me. And not a breath of wind. That fan on the floor blowing air that tasted of summer and dust. And cat urine from the lawn. I scribbled. Wouldn't call any of it writing. All in all, frustrating. Felt like my brains were cooking. Like crab in the shell. Did work out a little plotting detail — one little detail in all of the long long day — and that came late evening, and the thermometer still a tall red line.

This Saturday...nice stiff westerly blowing. Whitecaps will be rolling across Georgia Strait.