Doing a whole lot of nothing.

Feet., originally uploaded by camille94019.

My hot plans for today and tomorrow got cancelled. So I am not sure what to do with myself. I wish I had a clean studio to hie myself to.

I got a another job today (well, not for right now, but for the 05-06 school year). The Assistant Superintendant of LA called while I was still in bed. Fortunately, my book and phone were right there. I am relieved that he couldn't see me in my smelly underwear. Yeah cordless phones. Technology rocks.

I just dragged myself in from the hammock-- I was afraid I might get irreversable sunstroke (or a really bad burn). Hammocks are so addictive-- something about being held, suspended like a sack, by two points, from the ground, feeling the breeze in the nethers and drifting to sleep, when you are in that space between consciousnesses and you have temporarily forgotten your name and how to speak, and you might be a rock, or a cloud, or an embryo suspended in liquid and that gentle rocking might be your mother taking steps down a hill in some remote and crazy reality that you are technically in, but have absolutley no connection with. Then you might hear a big fly buzzing around your head and you might think, hey brother, stop that already. And your brain is as blank as the as the stucco wall you stare at, trying to decifer the waterstains, as if they are a message from God, and if you could only remember what that spot meant, it would all be clear. You shift your gaze down the corridor of your yard, like a bobsledder, surveying the route, and you think, the porch only needs some hanging plants and one could make this place more abundant and exotic than the legendary hanging gardens of Babylon.

true story.