halfwaying

I would have probably been more productive just staring at a wall all day today. The evasion of indexical signs, the proliferation of flourishing doubt. And I left the book I ordered in my apartment office. I think of masks, of traveling, of painting a bedroom that is our own. Hanging my hat on a coat rack, I imagine it to be either all metal or all wood (but not a combination of both), and it is right when you walk in the front door, and I will certainly complain from time to time of its clutter, of its flagrant disavowal of the entry-hall closet nearby. An umbrella is something I wish I had the opportunity to use more, but they seemingly make shoes even wetter. My current umbrella brims are shallow, slight. I need to widen my protective reach.