things i've noticed

Man standing at baggage claim. Startling blue eyes, red hair. He sports a goatee that is inches long, maybe three but the odd thing is that it hangs beneath his chin like goat hair, and it's trimmed so close on the sides that it reminds me of a woman's pubic hair trimmed into a landing strip. Odd. His hair is long, shoulder length, and straight, I wonder why he looks at me.

Woman I sat next to, in her St.John knit pantset, perfect hair and acrylic French manicure that I wore long enough to know she's gone through some pain to have them look that nice. There is something about here that says "older" though I cannot figure it out … There is no gray in her hair, no wrinkles, not even the tell tale bagging of her neck or eyes. Perhaps it is the single strand of silver encircling her neck…or the book on winning negotiation that she reads like it is an assignment. I think she may be a lawyer, clearly an exec… she pulls her blackberry out from time to time and touches it with the nails that are truly too long for my taste. He skin is tanned… is that what ages her? I think now yes. No creamy complexion, no shine of youth. It must be that. That and the absence of layers. Layers matter.

I make it a point to try to guess the ages of people on the plane, there are always clues, but most often I try to decide if they are older or younger than me, and I know that is not a good test, as I have no clue how old I am most days. It still shocks me to look in the mirror and see either my older sister or my mom, or somedays my grandmother looking back at me.

At breakfast this morning, after we refused the way-too-much buffet and opted instead for single breakfasts, me a waffle, him an omelet with everything and good strong coffee, a small finch landed on our table.. Yellow underneath, black on top it stayed but a moment, looked at me, and cocked it's head. I remembered that I am to write bird by bird. Yesterday, I saw a pelican, though I wasn't positive it was a pelican… and that while sitting on the patio. It worries me that my vision is so unclear. It looked like a pelican moving, but when it stood still, I thought I tmore a crane. Does it matter? Only if I'm writing about birds.

I hate that after this weekend I have so little left to say. My mind is nearly empty of words. I think I am trading my brains for one fuck after another, one more glass of wine. I wonder if that is it?

My feet are cold and would be fine if I could get my shoes back on, but they are still tied and there isn't enough space to untie them and do it right, so I'm all stuffed into the backs of them. They are warmer that way I guess. I'm going to open another file now, and try to do something productive.