Things I could do.

Seriously, that last post was so insipid! I can't help it if I feel groovy.

I can't help it if I think eating pumpkin pie for breakfast and dinner is a good idea because it tastes good and life is a collection of beautiful moments strung together, fleeting and delicious. Can I?

Oh I'll crash. I know, but that's something to worry about when it happens.

Meanwhile, the mist has rolled in over mull of Montreal. I feel like staying home and watching Harold and Maude under a big blanket with a fire going in the wood stove (as opposed to on the kitchen table for example). I feel like meeting at the cemetery gates to talk about Keats and Yates (I'll have to read them first). I feel like taking a trip to Prague, where I could drink strong tea in a 300 year old, apartment building with cathedral windows, looking out onto a square. I could hole up in a cabin in Alaska and chop wood and walk for hours everyday and draw stories by candlelight every night. I could meet my knitting group after work today and knit while eating avocado salad and spaghetti and then go home and put on my pajamas and read in bed. I could. Doesn't it all sound good?