a reaction to some soft skin

I don't think I am here right now. I don't even know what that means. I wish there were treasure maps hidden behind old paintings and secret doors behind bookcases. I wish there were places to go when wherever you are starts to feel like the only place you've ever been. I wish I had more to offer and less to gain. I wish I had an answer for every question. I like the idea of finding things of value in boxes of breakfast cereal. And winning something at the carnival that's worth having. Not a stuffed Noid for instance.

My birthday approaches. I'm short for ideas. Last year was the best and the worst birthday ever. This year, I wouldn't be surprised if it's just middling. Better than a bran muffin. Not quite as good as peanut butter. I've just been to Disneyland. Maybe that's why everything seems so pale.

Martín (who was kind enough to want to better my evening) and I went to Al Gelato last night, and I had a capuccino and once again wondered why I have never had any actual food there. It always smells really good. But I've only ever had gelato. Or coffee. When we got out of the car, it smelled of fireplaces on Robertson. "It's April and it smells like October." I started a post a few weeks ago that had the phrase "joyless autumn days" in it, but it was not seasonally appropriate. I love the smell of autumn. And I already have an idea for a Halloween costume.

I get goosebumps when it's cold. No surprise there.