postage marks

Le Sigh.
I let today slip right through my fingers.

A few things occurred to me as I walked the dogs today. I really don't understand how young people have children. Getting up in the morning solely to take care of something else, that will otherwise shit/pee all over the floor, is not my idea of a good time. Cleaning said poop up off of a neighbor's lawn is not attractive. (Today I saw a charming guy and just as I bent over to pick up a pile of steaming shit, he said "Eyy Brah" into his bluetooth- thankfully. We had mutually murdered our chances for each other anyway.) Babies are also like dogs when you're trying to teach them their name- I guess when you say the same thing over and over to a creature it'll figure out that you're talking specifically to it at some point.

Urth cafe was blasting "Jump In The Line," just as I was thinking about how much life out here looks like that graveyard scene from Beetlejuice. I took this as a sign that I was right.

I keep thinking about home. I'm really excited to go visit. I don't want it to be a visit, but I don't want to give up on my mission of making a life somewhere else. I'll be back I promise. I just have to know that I can do this. I absolutely have to.

The other night was really wonderful. I wasn't at a super awesome party/club/bar. I was on a porch with 15 kids drinking beers and talking. The lighting came courtesy of a low-lit lamp and some flooding light from inside the house. I could barely see some of the kids, but it somehow didn't matter. I could hear them, and I knew that they were there.

That's all I ever want really: To know that someone is there.


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