splish-splash

My whole house emptied out early this morning, leaving me free to make a cake, read A Naked Lunch uninterrupted, do some errands and surf the internet for a while.

Then I realized what a waste that was of a perfectly good empty house. I logged off and took a long, hot bath, blow-dried my hair and warmed up again in my thick black bathrobe. I took a look at myself in the full-length mirror and got to see for the first time in ages what I really look like.

I'm in good shape. I'd gained a few pounds but successfully dropped them off over the last two weeks. I didn't mind what I saw. (Aside from the haircut, though Harry claims to like it.)

I like clothes and all but bare human bodies are infinately more beautiful than anything a designer can ever dream up. I firmly believe that.

I also believe that nobody in New York should ever own things they don't love or wear clothes they don't like. There are a million thrift shops and places to find things. Nobody should ever have to be discontent with their style.

That said, shopping is a little time-consuming. But still.

This play is proving harder to write than I thought. The plot has gotten very intricate and it's hard to make the dialogue flow realistically and still support the plot twists. And the name Frank Grimes turns out to belong to a character from the Simpsons, so I'm short a name.

And I still have to see Walk the Line, even though I hear it's not that great.

Meh.