Apr. 23rd, 2006

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Today has been an amazingly lazy day.

The air is cool and sweet in that way that Chicago does in springtime. The grime and tiredness sort of lift, and the sunshine sparkles through the trees, and because the windows are thrown wide open, I can just now hear the church bells tolling in their dry, heavy, metallic way.

It's been a sort of meditative day. I've been pulling things out of drawers and assessing them, literally and metaphorically. The pantry is now a lot cleaner, and my head feels a little more organized, too. It's hard to remind myself that I have choices and things - so many years of feeling constrained by money gives one terrible habits that are hard to break. Apathy not being the least of them.

There's a laundromat about a block or two down the street, and I went there to wash some bath towels and mats yesterday morning, as I was getting down to the last of 'em. It's not a very well-kept laundromat, to be sure, but it works after a fashion, and I know I can take things there that don't need too much special treatment -- like the towels. So I kicked back with a big can of green tea, sat on the windowsill, and let the sun bake into me as the Polish women gossiped, the children chattered and scattered around, and the whir of machines attempted to mix it all down into organic white noise. It strikes me still how very out of place I am in this neighborhood. Even being half Polish, I don't speak the language, nor am I all that familiar with the daily lives of those thick in that community.

So, I feel a little isolated. I am starting to crave having a car again, if only to be able to go audition for plays again. I miss having a creative project to see through to completion. The ritual, the process, the emptying of my head and my heart into something much bigger than myself and my little universe. The bus doesn't run as late as I would need it to, in order to get out there and back on stage again, so I dunno. We'll see. I feel like I am being kept waiting on so many things. No one's tugging on the lines.

It does all feel a little more easy to bear, what with the scads of freshly-folded towels and the cool air drying my hair into waves, sirens and bus brakes and gangbangers out in the world, making that noise.

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