Don't worry loves I am not drinking any gin. I'm too fretful to walk across the street for Gatorade, the taste of which I secretly like (probably because it reminds me of all the times I fainted my way out of things I didn't want to do), but I've been downing the water &, now that it's started to rain outside, I have the kettle on.
I've started reading Illywhacker & do not plan to go to work tomorrow.
I cannot stop thinking about the barrage I faced from my coworkers this morning, especially the bit about even Iraqi children being dangerous to "our men." What it is, in part, is that I don't see how any group as anti-Bush as my coworkers, by definition, are could be pro-war. But perhaps that is short-sighted of me. What it is, mostly, is that they have known all along that I am a pacifist & now that there is this mess going on they see me as seditious; they take my beliefs personally & it is just like in high school when I was attacked & belittled for my beliefs ("You're going to hell, you wouldn't even defend your own country").
I want to lie on my back & play Tetris all evening & be read to, & then I want to watch American Idol & agree with my honey about foreign policy, & watch Pete + Pete & go to bed, & if this sounds like avoidance, it is, it is.
I want to write like Peter Carey more than I want to write like anyone else I've ever read, including Anne Carson & Frank O'Hara & Virginia Woolf. & that is saying a lot. But if you have been trying to put your finger on it, that is it, he is the one I want to be.
PS, do you know what it is? It is a thunderstorm outside, the first of the year.
All day yesterday I kept saying, "I have the springest fever."
