Written on the wind

Temperature: a sunny 20/68 degrees

Eating: trying to perfect the art of smushi, aprés le Royal Café of Copenhagen

Drinking: hmm, what's the perfect smushi companion? Aquavit? Hate it. Beer? This ain't your average smørrebrød. I'm going with C, champagne. There's a champagne for every food and occasion. Yes. I have smushi and champagne for lunch all the time. Not. Just messing around making a mess in the kitchen planning a tasty weekend treat. Shh. It's a surprise.

Watching: in the mood for something massive, dramatic, melodramatic, painting-with-picturish. Luhrmann or Malick. Sirk?

Listening: like I said, in the mood for something massive, dramatic, melodramatic, wall-of-soundesque. 30 Seconds to Mars? “Honest to God, I will break your heart / Tear you to pieces and rip you apart.”  

And dancing to Jessie J! It's all in the hips, sweetie darlings. Press yours to mine, look me in the eye, lemme take the lead, and let go. “If this is a dream, won't open my eyes / Am I asleep? No, I'm alive.”

Reading: something so good, it almost made me stop writing. You know, “This is it. Nothing to add, nothing to subtract. This is perfection.” (Not available in English. Sorry. Ooh, would looove to translate it. Would the mastery somehow magically rub off on me by association, do you think?)

Writing: just tossed I won't say how many Ks worth of words for obstruction of story.

Feeling: energized by the summer. No living thing thrives without warmth and light. OK, maybe some deep-sea creature. Ocean's daughters? Not so much.