I'm never gonna wait
that extra twenty minutes
to text you back,
and I'm never gonna play
hard to get
when I know your life
has been hard enough already.
When we all know everyone's life
has been hard enough already
it's hard to watch
the game we make of love,
like everyone's playing checkers
with their scars,
saying checkmate
whenever they get out
without a broken heart.
Just to be clear
I don't want to get out
without a broken heart.
I intend to leave this life
so shattered
there's gonna have to be
a thousand separate heavens
for all of my flying parts.

Andrea Gibson wrote that poem.
She is good.
Makes me think I have a voice too.
Clear and with equal grace.
I can show mercy to my body too.
The subject matter would be different, but I am guessing that kissing
is just as exciting and slimey and fun to write about for us straight
girls.
And I don't really need to talk about vaginas that much.
And I don't get to see very many penises.
But I can talk about grace.
And I know about love.
And I have a small story to tell.
And when I run out of stories, can I tell yours?
It's totally ok to start sentences with but and and.
All the fucking time.

Also, Your Sister's Sister is a good movie.

I have:

(a list)
The radio on.
A slight hangover.
Dolly Parton on my arm.
A stupid crush.
Purple shampoo.
New running shoes.
Talented friends.
A messy bedroom.
Too many pairs of socks.
No food in my fridge.
My window open.
No clothes on right now.
Two fun jobs.
An obsession with silk.
Good ideas.
Dog envy.
Patience (sometimes).
Diamonds on the soles of my shoes.
Fun.
Strong arms to hold you.
Coffee in my system.
Many, many foibles.
Legs, lips and boobs.
A good family.
One foot out the door.
Two brains.
Three paycheques to deposit today.
An irrational desire for $600 shoes.

--
Sent from my mobile device

Sometimes the stars seemed so far away.

I know I have written about this before, but it is on my mind this morning. And it's important.
For years I thought they were my flowers. But they're totally not.
They're Nancy's flowers.
I feel like having them on my little kitchen table brings me closer to this woman that I didn't even really know as a real, whole person with
stories and faults and humour. She was my aunt, and our bond is that she died on my birthday.
It is my favourite part of my birthday.
The celebration layered with something somber. It's entirely beautiful. It's humbling. I know that I don't deserve it. At all.
I love being part of the remembering. I hope that I accept these flowers with sufficient grace. How did I manage to be on the recievin end of all that love? With something so tangible and fragrant and lovely.
I am honored. Deeply.
It is actually beyond my understanding. But then, it's death and flowers and love and mystery. I don't think I'm supposed to understand it.
So thanks Becky, for cracking my heart open. Sorry it took me so long to see these flowers as more than flowers.
Incidentally, this year's bouquet is the most beautiful one I have ever had.

"Rough seas, they carry me, where ever I go."
-Josh Ritter

I love this line of music. It speaks. We expect that peace alone will carry us. But there is bouyancy in choppy water too. And movement.
We may be lost, and sick over the side. The point is that we are carried.
And next time we'll read about stars and pack some gravol.
So don't worry.

On unanswered texts.

It's a freefall; the space between 'yes' and 'no'.

HOW ART WORKS? - a serious movie about problems and solutions.

"I can do some good here." -Chaplin

PARIS in the springtime. Ballet flats with jeans. Lipstick. Sunny
noses. Apertifs.
Crippling insecurity, which I hope is due to my oncoming period. These
days are so good at making you ugly and needy and like you're being
leftout of life.
The Mysterious Benedict Society.
Catsitting for a week. Netflix, alright!
Making weird into good (I hope! becasue I don't like weird. Ever.) It
only takes cinnamon hearts.
No nailpolish for a week. I like my naked nails.
Ukulele. The only song I know is "Hard Times Come Again No More".
Discovering that I sing.
Majorly inconveiniant, super annoying, tunnel visioned, crushes on
guys who are slow or blind or not into it but won't say so. See me
already.
Weird, weird, food.
Sherlock Holmes.
Flappers.
Meetings about Oak Trees.
This feeling of urgency to put it out there. Go and be wise. Do and
Make. Laziness. I can do it tomorrow.
Two brains always at war.
Being too old for shows where there isn't a working toilet.
Feeling ok naked.
Learning to sew and finish and iron all my seams.