The new headphones (birthday present) have changed my life. I'm in another place at work. Not necessarily a more productive place. But not a less productive place either. But it's clearly a different place.
The headphones are not exactly soothing though. The music (or erudite NPR talk) enters my brain directly, no longer conduiting via the outside world which no longer exists. I get dizzy easily. My hair is kinkier.
But I will remain in the new place I find myself in. Presently, Clem Snide is singing a gentle la-la-la-la song. I feel a phantom fever in my phantom head. I am possessed by something delightful and jarring. And whole and empty. There's a sun squeezing out through the 22nd floor windows, splitting downtown into thirds.
I'm going back to the screenplay about the poet on the mountain. It needs a 7th and final draft.
I'm hungry but not for cheese. There's been enough cheese this week. Too much chocolate and salt too. It's time for something more refined. More delicate. But only for today. Tomorrow, back to the basics.