I am sorting through my closet and stacking things to be cast away.  These days I mostly wear cutoffs and tee shirts in various states of decay and sandals.  I have grown tired of looking at vintage-y things in my closet, which now seem a ridiculous relic from a life no longer lived.  So many things appropriate in California have no use in other parts of the world.

The other day it was very hot.  I rode my bike to the beach and waded into the water about knee deep.  It was cold and eerily still, the bottom hard with ridges put there by an invisible current.  Lake swimming just isn’t exciting to me.

My houseplants never do very well, herbs in particular.  But I recently came into possession of a mint plant that is truly flourishing on my kitchen windowsill.  If it makes it through winter next summer might find me with many mint flavored cocktails.

Yesterday at a theme park a teenager stomped on a packet of mustard and it exploded all over my legs and I was angry.  I snapped at the youngster and said, “Well, that was a fucking stupid thing to do!” and then wiped away the mustard and my dignity with a coupon.

My hair is getting super long so I’ve had to start brushing it for the first time in years.  Every movie I see with a cute shorthaired girl makes me want to have the shears taken to it, but the lady minded toward frugality in me notes the practicality of not having to maintain cuteness.

Hot Saturdays spent in air conditioning are kind of the best though I am starting to realize the warm weather is a short lived luxury that ought not be taken for granted despite how accursed it is.

On this day which took Michael Jackson away, my stupid noisy neighbor is moving out.  Blessed be!

Tonight I took a long bike ride on the path that runs along Lake Michigan.  Even at 8 o’clock, the beach was still crowded with swimmers and volleyball players and people obstructing the hundreds of bikers using the path.  It’s sometimes hard to believe that only a couple of months ago, the beach was hidden under feet of snow and the water was completely iced over.  I think tomorrow I will go swimming, though the water is still hovering around 65 degrees.

Today I had a delicious smoothie, a delicious breakfast, a great talk with a friend, and wrote what I think and hope was a pretty good piece for my writing class.  I shall file this day under success.

Somewhere not far from where I now recline, a lady trucker might be searching for a skunk-besmirched boxer named Brian.  We encountered her here in Green River, Utah as we walked back to our hotel from a truck stop where the cashier kept telling a friend that she didn’t threaten to kill her daughter’s boyfriend, she promised.

I woke up at about three o’clock this morning and flew first to Denver and then to Vegas.  As soon as I got in the car, it was decided that we might as well drive back to Chicago right that second.  So here we are, in easternish Utah.  Never before have I flown to a place only to turn immediately back around for a multi-day drive back to my point of origin.  I missed my boyfriend.

I had a great pre-dawn ride to O’Hare with an enthusiastic Somalian man.  It rained a great deal last night and the darkened and still wet city was a nice sight from the back of the Somali’s efficient taxi.

Look kids, it’s the momentary ghost of Michael McDonald!

The mix cd that I made back in early March and accidentally left in the car share car is still going strong.  I wonder who has been listening to it and whether they are totally into the mix of old Sleater Kinney and Mission of Burma.

Virgo Horoscope for June 15, 2009 Creativity and the more enjoyable side of life are going to be a central feature for you for awhile. Let details take care of themselves and take the time to enjoy yourself and stretch out both at work and play. When something feels right, whether it be a new idea or the opportunity to just have a good time, roll with the feeling and don’t put on the brakes.

Today crackles with possibility, with productivity.  I have increased my working out and decreased my pigging out.  It’s sunny and warm but not hot – perfect weather for bicycling.  I have things I need to do and things I want to do.  I am doing them.  I am making my breakfast.  I am listening to Gillian Welch.  Sad and lovely, she is.

Yesterday I met a girl who will be a new friend.  She shares a name with an old friend.  I liked her immediately.

The guy who lives across the hall is moving out and I will not miss him.  For a second I hoped that maybe some interesting girl will move in and we will sit on the shared back porch and sip cold cocktails as summer days wane beyond the courtyard, but I am unconvinced that such perfection ever happens.

This morning I woke up with a splitting headache and never fully recovered.  So, Saturday night is destined to be an exciting one of lying about, soaking in the bath, and finishing up a couple of books I started reading earlier this week.  As this plan unfurled, I found myself actually looking forward to such a mundane evening.  How disappointed younger me would be at the bore I’ve become.

I booked a plane ticket back to Vegas on the urging of my gentleman friend.  He wants to drive back to Chicago within the next week and I had already committed to coming along.  Despite the numerous hours wiled away on the interstate system over the last month or so, I am looking forward to the trip.  I am still pondering the best route, though it will probably end up being I-80.  The path holds little splendor for me as I’ve made use of it many times.  But there are some nice places in the Rockies for stopping and Iowa in summer is always a sight I enjoy.

Though I’ve never been a tremendous fan of the guy, I recently heard it said about Charles Bukowski that he felt a young man’s calling to see his country.  I’ve seen most corners of mine and still I can never seem to fully dial down the volume of the ringing.  These times have been good.  My mind is uncluttered and it is pleasant to conceive of what to do with the space.

Today is June 11, a Thursday.  Though official summer is still some ten days off, it strikes me as an unfair trick that for the past two days my radiators have come on.  As I sat in the bathtub with hair slathered in olive oil and face covered in aspirin mask feeling the heat pumping out of the unseasonal beast, I couldn’t help but feel a little cheated.  Stop it, Chicago!  I want for my beach.  I want for my bike.