hi. I live here. no, really. literally. that's my house. it's considerably more worn than when this picture was taken, but it's excellent nonetheless. old and creaky and with a front door as tall as my mom's whole house.
so there's been all this writing in my head, and of course it's all escaping me just this second. all the little mental scraps of paper, the notations, gone, off into the sunset like the end of a movie that was put together so painstakingly and no one bothered to stay. this sucks. there have been moments of just total gorgeousness, epic stanzas in the middle of crossing the street, novels about the passerby... and I sit here kind of blanked out. how many rounds do I have to go to remember the scraps in my pocket, and how the backs of paper diner placemats held unforgettable pieces of my heart? more, I guess. I'll learn at some point.
so there's so much going on, I almost don't even know where to start. I'll have to try later. suffice to say that most of my world is upside down, but some of it's okay right now, and I almost joined the navy in a fit of emotional diress.
v.
Leave a comment