Here in the Valley, the trees are starting to go. I drove past my two favorite historical markers today: Where Ashby Fell and The End of the Campaign.

I am making myself chai tea. It's funny, I have been making chai tea for years and this is the first time I've just made it for me when I've been home alone.


I'm in a fairly good mood for a girl who had to do post production all day, leave work for an hour to go cry in her car/see about throwing up, and come back and continue post production. I always feel thoroughly odd after a migraine, a bit like my brain has been scrubbed by a cheese grater, but very quiet and... pure sounds like a dramatic, indulgent word for it. It's possibly less a raw quality and more like the feeling of the last fuck having been giving. I'm still really word switchy: I typed fairy instead of rainy, suburb instead of superb. It'd be funny if it wasn't so embarrassing and frightening.

But that said, I have a good, if wary little feeling on. Not about everything, but sort of about me. Maybe it's just the hot water.