Shine on sister!

Come on in, it’s cold outside!
I can see the revolution now!

Miyuki is vital to my experience. She is the perfect company for me—we don’t have to talk but we know or I assume we have lots to say, lots of time to figure what those things are. We eat together and wake and sleep together. And I like to pour her the coffee she makes. It is not terribly different from the way I functioned with my mom as a child or with any close friend, roommate, Anne, or other close person. In fact, I think that the main criteria for relationships is if the other person can make the coffee. If they make the coffee I am so very happy to serve it to them and to keep their cup full. I even like to clean the coffee pot after. I will make them a compost pile if they don’t have one and I will put the grounds in it. I will make breakfast to go with the coffee. But if I should go to the bathroom and my coffee gets cold while I am gone, I think it is necessary that they fill up my mug or make sure the coffee is still warm. And if we are in the midst of a conversation, maybe they will make some more. Once, when I was staying with Paul in Berkeley, I missed my plane due to this type of situation. We were sitting in his yard, and the super black coffee kept coming. We were talking about shoelaces and freedom or some such thing, but it could not be stopped by some silly need to return home on time. It was a plane well missed.
Today is already better than other days for several reasons. For one, when I went to bed I was filled with anxiety and it had a lot to do with things I left in NY. Things I left in the fire. But I meant to leave them there and not to let them simmer in my pockets. The woodburner keeps me warm, I don’t need friction in my head and heart.




So I have taken to this midnight yoga, and instead of the normal routine of moving around and trying to empty out my brains, I just spilled them all out on the floor and almost passed out from doing a headstand for as long as I could stand it. Then it was easy to go to sleep. But I woke up at 630 or so with a start. The bad feelings returned. Bad is the wrong adjective. Unsettled. I feel unsettled. That is because I am unsettled, physically, in my routine, my relationships, my thoughts, my stomach. It is what I asked for.
So back to today. It is better. A look outside, a cup of coffee. A shower, and Miyuki making more coffee for me to pour.
She is reading my copy of Invisible Cities because she makes cities out of paper with holes for light to come in. She made dinner last night and after we spent a few hours sitting with our tea and reading our Calvino.
Today is also better because there is a plan. We will walk the long walk to the center of town. We have been warned against this but we are both walkers. To the bone. And if I am not allowed to discover new things I might die. And no one would know. So to whoever might read this, if I die in Finland, it will be in the process of discovering new things, the opposite of how they want it-- in a warm dry room with lots of soft wood things to sit on and drink coffee out of. Also, if anyone is reading this. What are you doing?!
What I mean is:
1. Why are you wasting your precious, well earned or selected free moments?!
2. Do you feel like you are reading my diary? Is that terrible? Maybe I am not so interesting.
3. Why aren’t you writing me a letter? If I told you all this banal stupid nothing, don’t you feel like you must reciprocate? I am such a good listener and all I have is eyes and time. Eyes and time.

4. If you read this, I want to tell you that:
Jesus is cool jesus is scared
Baby you are the only car I drive.
Foolin around fooling myself
Baby you are the only car I drive.
Easy to touch easy to find
Baby you are the only car I drive.
Melts in the mouth
Melts in the hand
Baby you are the only car I drive.
Out of my skin, out of my life
Baby you are the only car I drive.