I just looked in the mirror on my camping compass and realized: I’m kind of gold-ish blonde these days. It must be all the sunshine.
I’m stuck in this mentality. “It must be all the…” I don’t know what it is.
Maybe there’s a lemon tree sprouting in my thyroid. Maybe the geckos are giving me a dye job in my sleep; all beauty-parlor foil and brushes. Maybe there’s a gene that’s recessive until you hit Southeast Asia, and then it rattles to life like an old Honda. Maybe instead of inducing allergies, the pollen from fuschia flowers punks out the color-producing elves living in my follicles and gets everyone drunk on mezcal.
Yeah, that. My Chicago roommate Sean e-mailed me the song of the day today: Carmella (Beth Orton, Four Tet Remix).