A Streaming, Flowing Peace
Yesterday was a completely glorious dream world day. I tend to be a surprisingly early riser for all my evening antics, and the morning drive over the Howard Frankland was so shimmery that I immediately began having all these bright thoughts about the power of nature.
Next thing you know, inspired by all the splendiferous effects of sun and bay, I'm chugging along 275, munching away on cappity happiness, so that by the time I got home and was in the shower, the water drops were vibrating on the tile, and the ceiling was pulsing, and my skin had a gorgeous, rosy glow. I was thinking that I looked like I had been kissed by tulips - or was it two lips? - and that kinda cracked me up.
I went down to Plant Park with a blanket and just sorta lamped for, like, two hours. The whole thing was magic. Plant Park is pretty beautiful as is, but as I moved across the grass, the sun beamed this gentle, bright yellow glow over everything, so that the grass became this startlingly magnificent expanse of emerald green, waving and throbbing. The palms were spiking into the sky quite royally, and the oaks were swaying in the breeze, and everything was so perfectly beautiful that, suddenly, I noticed I had been jabbering to myself and giggling about some sort of nonsense for several minutes.
My phone kept ringing with all sorts of well-wishers, and I sat up and nearly fainted from how wonderful the colors around me were. Plant Hall bubbled up in the distance, the minarets gleaming and winking behind that tall, wobbling sculpture in the center of the park. I began daydreaming about Super Mario Bros., about how at the end, if Mario's a smart and enterprising young man, he gets the princess in the mushroom castle. I was babbling into the phone a little bit, but, mostly, I was letting the sounds of all my friends buzz through my ears, and a dreamy movie reel unwound in my mind, where a big, strong man scaled the minarets of Plant Park and captured a sweet, pretty princess with big eyes and a blinding smile.
I realized, then, that I was kinda thirsty, so I meandered over to Plant Hall, and my shoes made this echoing clippity-cloppity on the bricks, and when I got inside, all the faded carpet patterns from the early 1900's began swirling together and around each other, and, as I found the water fountain, I noticed the pale pink fleur-de-lis wallpaper that leads down to the lower level of the building, and that began to pulse, too. The whole building was reverberating with history and life and learning. I felt a warm, gushing wave of appreciation that I went to school in such a special, peaceful place.
When I got back outside, I wandered around the park a little more, and then it was time for lunch, so Mark and I went to Bella's, where I had delightfully fizzy champagne and a delicious chopped salad full of sundried tomatoes and wet lettuce. Mark was kinda quivering with workday tension. I could feel a barely controlled urgency coursing through his movements, and his face looked smooth and mask-like with the wax of work stress. I yammered about the color of the sky and whatever other chirpy things entered my mind, and he began to relax a little. My salad was so incredibly good, I could barely eat it.
I went to Four Green Fields after lunch to chatter away at Corey and Randy, and then I came home to clean up and relax before the big radio spot at Tampa Digital, which was fun, but, strangely, I never actually got around to finding out where exactly someone would have heard it. The room we were in was very artificially bright, and, honestly, I was kinda surprised by the story. I hadn't really been thinking of it in very concrete terms. I just had such a great time doing it, that when it was done, I held onto the part where I liked talking to everybody and thinking about how to show the world what all those people showed me. Somehow, I forgot about the part where it actually went out into reality and became something people all over the place read, like, for real. I must have gotten lost in the process of it somewhere, which struck me as very artistically pure and made me very happy.
We went to dinner in Clearwater afterwards, and the sunset was a bursting flame, turning the sky day-glo blue before spewing an ultraviolet blanket over the sand. A big, gulping tree frog sat on one of the deck chairs, and shining, blinking planes swooped into the airport beyond us. I wished I had worn the Sacagawea boots instead of the Russian princess boots, because I could see where it would have been sixteen thousand kinds of fun to splat around in the sand back there, but after dinner, once everything was dark, I went out along an adjacent dock for a minute, and I could feel the natural energy of the water, currents weaving slowly under a flat surface.
I thought about going to the Bank, but the day had such an organic vibe to it that I decided to just ride it out. Everything was about as perfect as perfect can be.
Next thing you know, inspired by all the splendiferous effects of sun and bay, I'm chugging along 275, munching away on cappity happiness, so that by the time I got home and was in the shower, the water drops were vibrating on the tile, and the ceiling was pulsing, and my skin had a gorgeous, rosy glow. I was thinking that I looked like I had been kissed by tulips - or was it two lips? - and that kinda cracked me up.
I went down to Plant Park with a blanket and just sorta lamped for, like, two hours. The whole thing was magic. Plant Park is pretty beautiful as is, but as I moved across the grass, the sun beamed this gentle, bright yellow glow over everything, so that the grass became this startlingly magnificent expanse of emerald green, waving and throbbing. The palms were spiking into the sky quite royally, and the oaks were swaying in the breeze, and everything was so perfectly beautiful that, suddenly, I noticed I had been jabbering to myself and giggling about some sort of nonsense for several minutes.
My phone kept ringing with all sorts of well-wishers, and I sat up and nearly fainted from how wonderful the colors around me were. Plant Hall bubbled up in the distance, the minarets gleaming and winking behind that tall, wobbling sculpture in the center of the park. I began daydreaming about Super Mario Bros., about how at the end, if Mario's a smart and enterprising young man, he gets the princess in the mushroom castle. I was babbling into the phone a little bit, but, mostly, I was letting the sounds of all my friends buzz through my ears, and a dreamy movie reel unwound in my mind, where a big, strong man scaled the minarets of Plant Park and captured a sweet, pretty princess with big eyes and a blinding smile.
I realized, then, that I was kinda thirsty, so I meandered over to Plant Hall, and my shoes made this echoing clippity-cloppity on the bricks, and when I got inside, all the faded carpet patterns from the early 1900's began swirling together and around each other, and, as I found the water fountain, I noticed the pale pink fleur-de-lis wallpaper that leads down to the lower level of the building, and that began to pulse, too. The whole building was reverberating with history and life and learning. I felt a warm, gushing wave of appreciation that I went to school in such a special, peaceful place.
When I got back outside, I wandered around the park a little more, and then it was time for lunch, so Mark and I went to Bella's, where I had delightfully fizzy champagne and a delicious chopped salad full of sundried tomatoes and wet lettuce. Mark was kinda quivering with workday tension. I could feel a barely controlled urgency coursing through his movements, and his face looked smooth and mask-like with the wax of work stress. I yammered about the color of the sky and whatever other chirpy things entered my mind, and he began to relax a little. My salad was so incredibly good, I could barely eat it.
I went to Four Green Fields after lunch to chatter away at Corey and Randy, and then I came home to clean up and relax before the big radio spot at Tampa Digital, which was fun, but, strangely, I never actually got around to finding out where exactly someone would have heard it. The room we were in was very artificially bright, and, honestly, I was kinda surprised by the story. I hadn't really been thinking of it in very concrete terms. I just had such a great time doing it, that when it was done, I held onto the part where I liked talking to everybody and thinking about how to show the world what all those people showed me. Somehow, I forgot about the part where it actually went out into reality and became something people all over the place read, like, for real. I must have gotten lost in the process of it somewhere, which struck me as very artistically pure and made me very happy.
We went to dinner in Clearwater afterwards, and the sunset was a bursting flame, turning the sky day-glo blue before spewing an ultraviolet blanket over the sand. A big, gulping tree frog sat on one of the deck chairs, and shining, blinking planes swooped into the airport beyond us. I wished I had worn the Sacagawea boots instead of the Russian princess boots, because I could see where it would have been sixteen thousand kinds of fun to splat around in the sand back there, but after dinner, once everything was dark, I went out along an adjacent dock for a minute, and I could feel the natural energy of the water, currents weaving slowly under a flat surface.
I thought about going to the Bank, but the day had such an organic vibe to it that I decided to just ride it out. Everything was about as perfect as perfect can be.
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