It's 11:24 now.
Late to be at the studio.
It's raining outside.
I see it under the streetlights on Main,
and hear it against the cap on my air vent-
a hollow tapping sound somewhere up in the ceiling.
The air conditioning in this old 1906 building rattles.
The lights hum.
Sometimes, when the thunder is extra intense,
a few crumbs of the burned brick tumble down
from their cracked crevices in the wall.
Did I ever tell you this place burned back in the 30's?
That's why the brick here is black and purple.
I have sixteen birds to pierce out in the morning,
and a slew of hearts as well.
A turquoise stone to set.
Five others right behind it.
Earwires are freshly forged and hanging ready
on the lip of an old Mason jar.
I finally got my saw blades organized.
And my abrasive papers too.
Maybe my thoughts will be next.
I look at my reflection in the glass block window and
see the wilderness of my hair.
Strands in a growing-out riot against a gangbuster of straps and bands-
they fight in vain to calm my 'do the hell down.
I must confess, I kind of like the wild look.
Fits my mood.
It's . . . relaxed.
There are new sprouts on the unidentifiable succulent growing in the window.
Why didn't I bring my camera?
My right ankle,
sprained last Friday,
looks rather like it wants to lay an egg.
I look at it with a mixture of annoyance and affection,
thinking it looks like it needs a name,
so plump and fragile at the moment.
It's still swollen something terrible.
It looks like a Humphrey.
Humphrey came to me when I was running on the treadmill
and felt the sudden urge to pee.
Leaping off with what was evidently an unfounded assuredness of my agility,
I caught my right foot in a funny position upon landing.
Heard and felt a distinct *snap*
and down I went.
Southern grace, folks.
I can walk on it.
Not real sexily though.
Think I might have it x-rayed on Friday.
Meanwhile, The Monkey marvels at the size of Humphrey.
Humphrey, whom I think might be a tendon is distress.
Aside from my newfound companion,
I find I'm missing the presence of others.
I think I need to start reading blogs again . . .
It's hard to be inspired when you don't surround yourself with them,
I miss you people.
How have you been?
Are you happy?
I can say tonight-
with the rain coming down
and the steam coming up from the wet pavement on Main . . .
Here in my cozy quiet studio in this tiny corner of the south,
a dull ache in my ankle that reminds me how lucky I am to
stand on my own two feet . . .
I am happy.
Life is good.