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What would you do?

There's a lot going on over here. I go from feeling like I'm on ecstasy (seriously comparable sensations, where when I embrace people it feels fantastic and highly necessary and I don't want to let go for anything) to low low lows after sad phone calls back East or bad early morning dreams.

Mostly it is the happy stuff. I went for a five mile walk today to Coffeehouse Northwest for a vanilla latte, and I bought gigantic scallops at the Whole Foods on the way back. I eat lots of cherries and raspberries every day.

Last night I went to the Tin House Festival closing reading. Denis Johnson charmed the crowd with his advice that the only way to write that book is to quit your job already. "Trust the universe," he said, and he was dead serious. I am too. I wake up every day and trust.

Later there was a party and I gossiped with Blake Nelson and Monica Drake, and Blake, edgy edgy Blake, talked about how he had heard about Monica before he had even met her years and years ago, the girl with the prettiest eyes in Portland. I saw Steve Almond again, and I am officially fond of that cat. I met some nice writers and everyone was pretty sincere, but wry too. I just talked and talked. I said some dumb things. I made myself laugh. Keep laughing. So you won't be sad.

Everyone has a Courtney Love story in this town.

People danced, though I did not.

The air here, good lord, it is terribly sweet and cool at night. My skin feels so soft at midnight.

(07/20/08)