2004-04-25 - 5:07 p.m.
hard to find things to say
songs about suns and planets and animals and trees
a city that tastes like subway clouds
cross section of a day, teeth crunching ice, laundry, smooth transitions between modes of transport. thank god I didn't drink all that whiskey last night. woke up on johns floor- with the blanket sort of near me. I can add an entry into my journal of whether or not you need a blanket to sleep in various places, various cities at various times of year- (someday I'll write a book called "places I've slept")
san francisco, april, shadi's couch: No, but only if you use your jacket and a sheet kinda thing to approximate blanket-ness
chico, april, johns floor: no (see above)
berkeley, high on mushrooms: god yes, many many many, and hot tub please with brie and champagne.
new york, october, futon in green point: strangely no, (landlord paid heating bill- cranked the sucker up and tossed and turned tropical)
oakland, april: yes, for some reason, even though it's warmer than sf
chico, summer, anywhere: no, god no, blankets are the devil, get me a fan and some ice water, stat
chicago, july: likewise
santa cruz, beach, october: sleeping bag time.
santa cruz, beach, daytime: my sunburn will keep me warm.
but probably the best sleep I've ever had was when I was working on an organic farm outside santa cruz. some days I would be so tired I would lie down on our 15 minute break at ten a.m. and my raggedy farmin' clothes in the dry grass combined with earth smells and morning warming sun made me feel completely at home on this planet and I would fall asleep and dream of picking tomatoes. wake up, pick tomatoes.
obviously no blanket needed there.
jail, anytime: take all the blankets you can get. but if you're in the drunk tank they won't give you one. you'll wind up shivering on a metal bench, trying to sleep with a roll of toilet paper as a pillow, if you're lucky.
