i have been spending a lot of time alone these days and nights in my apartment, which is feeling more and more like a dark cave lit with many ugly candles. i just sit and stare, and then the oven clock tells me that half an hour has passed. This doesn't miff me, because i just wrap the knitted blankets around me tighter and keep staring, and then soon it's time for bed.
Sometimes, though, i go out. i have really only seen a handful of people on repeat, and though they get me out, they don't seem to mind visiting me in my cave either. They are also clever enough to know that i am less creepy and disconsolate when they bring a bottle of white for safe passage.
And i am oddly surprised at the company that keeps me now, these very different people that have wandered in and taken me in. The cosmological congruency i think, is that we have all been terribly good at being terribly aware of being terribly unsuccessful in meaningful relationships. So bottles of wine go down, tears are spilt, bad Chinese takeout soothes us, and we bond over terribly terrible memories and the terribly good ones too.
Then it's time for breakfast in the rain.
It's summer. Sometimes, i do go out, and the sun does shine. So do my raddest of the rad friends.
weekday night gardens and ship fries
gardens at a glance
through the looking glass
tarp runner and folk fest buddy
main stage night tales
lanterns weaving in the dark
trail leads to me
let's dance
horseplay and tomfoolery
Sunday morning gospel jam
...
mountain strolls and lavender
...
amusement and skyrides
