later today in my novel workshop we will talk about the post-liquified novel i was writing once upon a time. i'm really embaressed and nervous about that work, and don't even know how much i want to work on it anymore. for the life of me, i can't write linear narrative anymore, not even in semblence, and the language of that piece drives me nuts - or at least one of the voices, which is too all over the place, and annoying more than half the time, to really know what to do. if i keep working on that piece, i almost need to start over from scratch, and so i guess the best thing to come out of this workshop would be an idea of how to do that, how to approach the gibberish.

but i'm nervous and feel weird about it, and wish i wasn't. i don't like workshopping things that i feel weird about. thank god my advisor is the workshop leader, who knows my stuff pretty well by now (although she's never seen the frappe).

on a brighter note, yesterday was just about the most gorgeous day in the world, and i got to walk around barefoot in my house, and sit out on the deck reading with only shorts and goofy sleeveless shirt on, and see how white i've become. everybody so incredibly happy and talky and an energy took hold.

right before i got on the bus to go home, this tall guy with a hankerchief on his head started talking to me about my tattoo, and how he liked it, and he was very touchy, would put his hand on my arm, and got close to talk to me. at first i was startled and reserved, but he wasn't creepy really - i think he was queer, and didn't seem to be hitting on me, just wanting to talk, just wanting to tap my shoulder with his palm. he was chewing gum and when he talked to me, little bits of saliva would fly out of his mouth, and even that didn't creep me out. i liked him. he told me about the places in the midwest i had to go, and he was emphatic like that, had to, had to, had to. turned out we were going home on the same bus, and so he sat next to me and we talked the whole time, or rather he talked. a jazz musician who has gigs at the Green Mill, he gave me his email and said i should write and he'd make sure i was on the list by the door when he gave a gig--me and one other person. when i asked him what the Green Mill was like inside he said, "i'm not going to tell you that" in a very sultry voice, flux, and then said, "what i will tell you is you'll like it, and it has a corridor that opens on up to a room with a stage." soon after, he left the bus, and as he did so, he planted a huge kiss on my cheek and i laughed.

as soon as he got off, a woman sat down and she started talking too. about hats, and gloves, and how she'd put them away, and she was glad because they mashed her hair down and didn't look good on her. i told her i couldn't pull off hats either, or at least not very. and watching the windows, the dogs playing, the ice melting even as you looked out there, and dogs wading into the ice water. shoosh, it felt past spring, springy spring, and i thought maybe i could be very happy here in the summer, which was a really nice thing to feel.

now it is windy and rainy-looking, and it's supposed to get cold, but the tease teased me happily, i'll get my frappe workshopped, and then i'm going to meet someone who might be a friend, just maybe. the thought about how when the sun comes out, maybe i'm a just a bit like a reflective surface.