Up in the brownstone aerie, experiencing a joyful, pleasant sense of exuberant well-being. I'm in the nude, tapping keys, freshly showered with a new bar of lemon verbena soap, one of my treats that I pick up for myself on my occasional sojourns to the city, which at moments, turn into talismanic treasure hunts. And so, after the Cindy Sherman show at MOMA, I strode down Fifth Avenue in my Dora Maar gear -- stylish, elegant skirt outfit, ruined, most likely, by skechers, rather than elegant sandals on pedicured feet. Or maybe I looked okay -- I caught glimpses of myself now & then, and was surprised to see how shapely my calves are, my whole physique really -- I mean, I'm middle-aged, have pounds to lose from my middle, I'm full-bodied to begin with - but you know? not bad, if I say so myself -- which I hope is saying a lot -- because, as women tend to be of themselves -- I'm my own worst critic! Another talismanic stop, into the side entrance of Saks, and I know just where the perfume counter is that I want, and so I spritzed myself with my favorite fragrance, which I actually own, and had applied after my morning shower, but it had long since faded... And then I dashed out again, barreled on a vigorous walk down Fifth Avenue, finally bailed at 16th Street... I had thought I might actually try to walk all the way home, down many more blocks more, and across a bridge, and down through Brooklyn neighborhood streets -- but I gave out, it was too much, and so I picked up the F train at 14th Street. And am glad I did, that I didn't wear myself out unnecessarily, because I felt very in need of an encounter for myself, especially with a new toy that in my insomnia overnight didn't work out for me. (Sidelight: I love to make love in daylight, during the day, when I'm fresh & awake & happy & vigorous & really able to focus. I mean, in the evening, I tend to have a few glasses of wine (yeah, I know - a shocker!), and I enjoy that as I sit down & type to you... and then afterward, I'm done - I don't drink more than that, I eat dinner... but I tend to be exhausted and done for the day. I'm 52 now, 53 in August, and not to age myself, but it simply isn't for me the way it was in my collegiate youth -- yeah, sure, drink coffee in the afternoon, drinks at night, and then have wild sex in the wee hours... And actually, for too many years, that's about roughly how it went... and it seemed adequate at the time... but things have changed, time has passed, I've become restructured I really love making love when I'm absolutely 100 percent, no artificial stimulant, such as wine... just simply my bodily corporeal self, and my mind truly being able to attend and to focus, including onto you, dearest lover... So I saw a movie this morning ("Hysteria") whose subject was - in essence - the female orgasm, and the psychic necessity of it -- which oddly, I suppose to make the subject even vaguely playfully approachable, lent to the (temporary) desexualization of (as we know now, randy) Victorian men.... And there is something to that. I feel so much better, after such a release -- I look forward to more, and with... I thought of you today, you were in my thoughts... and also I caught -- since my friends have cable TV down here -- a rare treat, Barefoot Contessa episode... I'd had my session with myself (oh effective, thank god!), and then bounded up to check the cat's plate, start preparing my dinner, and I thought --- oh Barefoot! maybe she's on -- moreover, it was a doubleheader, not her best, but ones I hadn't seen before... and sometimes I worry and wonder about encountering a man who seems incredibly sweet & sexy, and I wonder, could our worlds ever mesh -- but then I see Ina put on a beach party -- no kidding, an intimately-scaled oceanside beachside BBQ, a small circle of family & friends on one huge blanket on the sand, and then afterward, as the sun sets, they all make, at Ina's exuberant suggestion, somemores at the grill... and I feel so joyful and happy vicariously witnessing that, as I putter about this apartment, not even, this week my own and I think -- oh! I could do that! I'm not such the recluse -- I love doing that! Maybe if I were to encounter another man's children, ever -- maybe Ina could (in my quieter way) could by my inspiration... because I love to cook, and I love for others to feel welcome and happy, and loved... goodnight for now, launching without proofing - I don't have the energy to proof & edit, the font is smaller, on this computer, not my own all my love, exuberantly so, yours, Belle