Robert (gurdonark) wrote,

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coldly warm

Today the weather dropped down in the thirties, while the weather report promises a Saturday in the seventies. I wore a new suit, freshly hemmed and adjusted, to my meetings. I do not have a novel going now. I do not remember my dreams.
I do have a calendar that is filling near the brim. I have commitments to keep, and plans to make, but unlike the fellow in that song "The Cat's Cradle", I don't have any kids to neglect. A congressman on NPR today said we are but thirty days from war. A siren in the background tonight is sounding. I measure my lacks by curious things--it's been far too long since I really spent time browsing a dollar store, but at least I got to eat at Furr's cafeteria. I feel as though I owe too many people something in the mail, but I am nipping at my responsibilities one parcel at a time. I have this hankering to go fishing, and this hankering to set up an aquarium, and I know that these two impulses somehow don't go together. I see that the Dixie Chicks sold out their concert tour in hours last weekend, and yet, as paularubia mentioned recently, I remember when their original (much cooler, more kitschy) line up played virtually any place in the Dallas area to essentially no applause.
I should take some inspiration from that, on some level, but I just cannot coda that we are all somehow Dixie Chicks inside. So I'll drive home from work instead, and eat pizza.

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