distractions:

birthday

unresolved guilt

my sister; school

all those other people I could've been friends with but am not friends with, because they are lovely in their own ways but really just too much of something eh and bad.

good things:

pottery

piano

work from remote

parties, even though they are far away. (halloween)

eh:

foot cramps

cramps

meetings

Dreamt I got in a car with some sketchy strangers, but played along and found myself at a political gala. Ran into friends who were working and making the rounds; one of them said I could help by kicking off a song in 40 or so minutes, Bon Iver to drown the chatter, and I said yes. 

This was my last song I would do for them and this space; I was dying but did not tell them; I wanted to go out, business as usual, and had 40 minutes to myself to wander the karaoke bar booths and rooms while they worked. 

I would've said goodbye if I saw anyone I knew, but I didn't see anyone. Just more strangers, and I wasn't in a space to start something new. I never say it like a goodbye, but sometimes it is; just seems like a see you soon because they think I'm a given, someone they take for granted as fabric to a space.

somewhere between the overplayed loveliness of clair de lune and something more repetitive with a beat, a real hero, I haven't got much to say except it's just the aftermath, what remains after grief, and the drying of tears. one story closes and another opens, beginnings after endings.

this is not a clever story with a pithy morsel, just a Friday.

sometimes, before I have my coffee, I am a time traveler as I type away. I change my queries to extract the numbers I need as I sit in a classroom in 1994, listening to the radiator hiss by the open window, smelling whatever it is that makes the smell of old radiators, perhaps old silvery paint, or maybe just the age of its body and waters.

I am newly 6 and I wish for snow from the overcast white-grey skies as mind idles while my teacher reads from some book, and I am listening to the trucks go by outside. what is attention? I do not yet know the word "daydreamer", but I am daydreaming.

I wish I could make something as beautiful as fugazi's 13 songs.