It isn’t going to work.
I want to write story but I have to mull it over and at it between my brain cells for a bit before I spit some more out.
Right now, right now, right now I have to say the story of how I drove home after getting the things done that I wrote down in a little list I made to remind myself what I had to get done. I drove without incident until, half-sleepily, half-hungrily, half-crazed I half-convinced myself that my vision was blurring to nothing and I slammed on the brakes in the middle of that half-country road (no one behind or in front of me or I would like to assume that I wouldn’t do that) and then I felt it. No. Continue.
So there was no panic. There was no devolution into doubt. That feels like a step in a pair of weeks spent treading water and standing still.
I did go over to my mentor’s house and picked up the paintings she is donating to us for our purposes beneficent. Up and down and all around the old town, strange in my mind how different it feels. Gentler, somehow. The green in the trees feels particularly sunlit and warm, and the roads seem far less busy. Maybe I am just now becoming aware of the change in the seasons because I am seeing the change in the town, changes I had no role in, no reason to effect.
There are now eight water bottles filled with varying volumes of water on my table next to me. Staring at me for my aggressive over and underconsumption simultaneously. I am going to have to start using much smaller words or we are not going to get through this. I am listening to Summerisle by Mediaeval Baebes (Mediaevable is not a word) and feeling rather mimsy-flimsy like I could flit into the light, if not for this gross…okay, it is the basic too much information, but let’s just say that I am not feeling entirely well, in this physical body at the moment. I have a particular ailment, that doesn’t deserve mention of here, but I am working on it with some fizzy lifting drinks and I have only just begun and they aren’t working yet. So we will have to see what how the morning goes.
I don’t want to race, but I don’t see any way around it now. Time is of the essence for everything and everyone when you’re curious about what the internet can offer.
I am listening to Blue Caravan, a song you gave me once and thinking of you far and away on the other side of the world, a place I will likely never see, no matter how many times I have strafed it. It is not a sadness anymore, it is just a curiosity that I am accepting will never get resolved. I am still in the process of accepting.
More to do and I am leaving myself so close to the quick yet again.