2002-06-18 | 6:06 p.m.

corduroy licorice was always walking on eggshells around his mother. she was a prolific, but really sloppy, baker.

***

i'm not sure what's happening with the planets, but mine must be due for an alignment. work has been yucky the last couple of days. critical clients and a frustrated boss do not a calm, contented employee make.

this saturday i woke up with some kind of mild, but annoying, eye infection, then fell flat on my face in an alley while hurrying to get to class, leaving my palm gouged, knee contused and ego bruised. later that afternoon, an inexperienced moving truck driver clipped my car with (thankfully only) his rear tires. definitely a should-have-stayed-in-bed beginning of the weekend.

the rest of saturday and sunday was great, though, highlighted by quality time with good girlfriends, including my homie from nyc and her sweet sis. our socializing involved much eating, shopping and a cake fit for a princess.

oh, and friday night, at the last minute, k-girl got me on the list to see pete yorn, so that was mad blazin'. the best part was the little 9-year-old fan who, thanks to k-girl's sister, got to meet the man and get his autograph. she will be the envy of her grade school, no doubt.

the weekend fun behind me, i now seem to be fully embracing the self-pouting blues. the thing is, i feel ridiculous stressing over my little workaday worries (not to mention the fact that i'm dangerously close to running out of clean undies) when people in other parts of the world are waiting for the next bomb to blow.

in other words, that's enough out of me.

***

whoever finds love
beneath hurt and grief
disappears into emptiness
with a thousand new disguises.
- rumi

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