A break from Hemingway
I fixed everything broken that could be fixed, from general wear and tear, in my apartment under the winter grey, sunless sky.
human(e)
The teacher was kind and went at a reasonable pace opposed to when I have been there before and I felt like our teacher thought we were racing horses.
Creature comforts
My dad was older, my dogs were older and I felt everyday flew by and yet dragged on at the same time.
Refraction
There is a missing vintage diamond ring on a dusty country road somewhere in Missouri.
The leaves don’t change here (Copy)
I noticed the slight sagging of my right eyelid and the light pigment of my lower lip from my stint in panama of not wearing any sunscreen. I tried not to reflect too much on all of my recent-past love life. It was sad and sort of humiliating and most importantly, humbling.
An old friend from far away.
I leave my job in a half changed, slightly disgruntled mess with a little perfume and a quick sweep of deodarant and decide the only way I'm going to make it to the ferry dock on time (in this traffic mess) is to physically RUN down Capitol Hill with no sports bra and in a dress
Speak to me in a language I can hear, humor me
But I NEEDED this to happen. I needed to find myself (again) in the startling silence of the reflection of the everyday scratched up plexi glass bus windows. And in the pristine ballet class mirrors. And in the graffiti ridden store front downtown windows.
the last few months, etc.
The smell of the trendy Chinese place in the winter with maitais on tap. Sam at the corner store tells me...
coming home (a letter)
I feel free. I am happy.
I remember you in delicate flashes.
Random thoughts
Me “I do love black & white films.”
Iz “I know you do… I can tell just by looking at you that you love black & white films.”
Me “Sheesh.”
so you want to be a writer?
The author leading the discussion looked liked Stellan Skarsgard. I couldn't stop thinking that. He offered insight regarding literary agents, beginning publishing and the highs and lows of being a writer. People asked him questions like he held the mystery to being published. I just soaked it all in.
He was educated. Attended Iowa University and Oxford. He spoke of an endless list of credits, appearances and publications he rattled off like he was reading the back of a medicine bottle.
heartintransit
He laughed. My face flushes. I would never have had the nerve to talk to anyone before. Not even the bus driver.