Welcome to my day. Waking up with a kiss and a cuddle right on time to watch CBS Sunday Morning. A quick oatmeal breakfast and a walk down the street to drop my lover off at work and grab a soy latte at the local hip coffee joint. Home again to report on my day.

Digital music blasts against my eardrums.

I am officially recognizing today as the beginning of my Spring Break. Seven full days off to do whatever the hell I want. A reward for being a teacher. I have many books to read, some school plans to make, an NYC vacation to enjoy, and shit to write. I’m also weening myself off of my anxiety medication and am finally ready to take my stool sample so the doctor can check and see if my intestines are bleeding.

The collaboration with George is moving slowly because I’m out of constructive ideas. In case you haven’t been paying attention, I am writing text for his musical composition that will feature an overlap of seven instruments and seven voices spoken. Weaving in and out, sometimes obscured and othertimes supported, my text is meant to create the sensation of overhearing bits and pieces at a party. Only not so. I have two sort of finished, and my third is supposed to be a one-sided phone conversation which will reveal a full narrative from beginning to end.

The sun is shining but it is cold outside. I would like to spend the rest of the morning cleaning. I feel very little inspiration about anything at the moment. The world outside of my headphones is very still. And that’s all.