won't you stay, we'll put on the day and we'll wear it til the night comes

I signed up to MySpace for some unfathomable reason. An urge to join things in moments of lonliness, perhaps. When I imported my address book I was surprised to find twelve of my friends are already members. I am proud to announce that not one of them had done a thing with their profile pages. I win the obsessive compulsive prize, then :) It really was the most unlikely group of people. I've sent 'add me' requests to all of them and will be amazed if any of them (apart from the LJers) respond.

I did find one picture of an ooold old friend and was surprised and pleased to see that he looks exactly the same as he did twenty years ago. Sometimes stuff like that is comforting. The continuum.

I have spent much of the weekend laying about on the strip of grass in my garden contemplating the fence where I haven't yet planted my birthday rosebushes, or hunching over the border digging out miles and miles (and miles) of bindweed. That stuff is evil. I'm trying to get as much as possible out before planting the roses. See? It's all connected. I have also been watering the garden with the bathwater. I'm a responsible citizen, me. I shall have tired of the constant watering by the end of June but hopefuly by then my new plants will have established. Looking at the window boxes which I planted up makes me feel as though I am absurdly middle-aged and turning into my parents but they are beautiful and I grew them so I don't care much.

On Friday night I heard that a printmaking friend of mine has separated from his very long-term partner. I have therefore spent the last two days going 'Printer...single! Good grief!' After I'd done this five or six times within the space of an hour it occurred to me that this is what people must have said about me and The Ex. Realising this has made me feel oddly normal. It's not just me that fucked stuff up. I knew it already but now I also believe it. I hope the feeling lasts.