Monday, March 4, 2013


I'm low in Vitamin D according to the bloodwork. I love that word "bloodwork," it describes so many things, including but certainly not at all limited to what a phlebotomist does with your arm so I've taken it upon myself to sit in patches of sunlight. Like a cat, along the nap of the rug.

I put my limbs in the air like a dead stink bug, or what they call in yoga The Happy Baby.

When you need it to be, the sun feels like an animate thing. Something enveloping. It has texture, thickness, sound. Personality. Saffron and orange dancing behind your eyelids.

Coming all that way it must have some cosmic consciousness though I cringe at the words "cosmic consciousness" because I fear  I'll be all, Where is my nut milk bag? Where's my kilt? When's my reike appointment?

I sat with my back to it. Then with my face to it, and I believe there was some communication, I think I made the baby mouse-peep of gratitude of dust dependent on a star.