Never Mistake Motion for Action.
My feet are dirty. I’ve been outside for the past hour on a frustratingly unproductive jaunt to recover my dear cat from the gaping alleys of my neighborhood. The trees have been crying dry yellow tears into the streets, and there is just enough wind to send shadows dancing and trick me into believing I’ve found her. It’s cold out, a taunting cold that makes my arms freeze and my neck hot- i hope Jim has an adventure, without suffering from the cold. While I was looking for her I saw a skunk. Maybe she and the skunk become friends in the night, and experience new things together they can re-live through weekly meetings under the hammock out front. I just hope she’s warm.
Dad and Wife are here, which has allowed me to escape the repetitious weekends…I like that. I need more variety…. like tonight. Tonight was amazing… new friends on a Pearl Street dissection filled with abandoned carnivals and fountains. I even got to read Hemingway, and am reminded that to be a good writer you need nothing but a café and a glass of whiskey. Dreux told me he used to sleep in a bathtub—a porcelain womb, he called it. I hope he writes a book about his life someday. I hope I would want someone to write a book about my life someday. The quest begins.
Dad and Wife are here, which has allowed me to escape the repetitious weekends…I like that. I need more variety…. like tonight. Tonight was amazing… new friends on a Pearl Street dissection filled with abandoned carnivals and fountains. I even got to read Hemingway, and am reminded that to be a good writer you need nothing but a café and a glass of whiskey. Dreux told me he used to sleep in a bathtub—a porcelain womb, he called it. I hope he writes a book about his life someday. I hope I would want someone to write a book about my life someday. The quest begins.
