let's go get this thing stuck

I'm the kind of tired that makes my thoughts feel like water, running down and then swirling back. That said, I have had the most amazing time.

you wouldn't like me if you met me

Home alone in a hot house? Time for baking a cake in a bra and cutoffs, listening to Tegan and Sara. I've become a parody of myself, and cut offs are my new black.

There is a stinkbug trapped, clicking against the stained glass tiffany lamp in the living room. I love the way my house smells when the sun has baked it all day: like sweet, warm old wood, and I've kept it dark tonight except for that one lamp. I'm in kind of a mood all the sudden. Not necessarily a bad mood; today was a pretty good day, but it's more like this kind of fuck this stupid shit I do what I want which probably directly correlates to listening to too much 90s lesbian rock and then writing long sentences about it.

Last night, when I was running, I thought about all the times in my life that I've truly believed I was about to die.* ** I don't mean, like, conceptually understood my mortality or the brevity of life, but I mean having that brilliant, thrilling, cold-flash of an instant like "Wow. Well, okay. This is it. I didn't expect this. Here it comes, I guess."

I'm 26, living in a first world country, so true moments such as these are fairly few--maybe three or four at best. Auto-related, tornado, or that time I fell off a cliff. Each time, the thing that startles me the most in thinking about it afterward was how calm and collected I was about it. Almost mundane-level acceptance, as if on trying to decide between two muffin flavors, I realize instead that the coffee shop is fresh out of muffins, and I will instead need to purchase a croissant.***

I don't actually think this is because I'm a badass. Rather, at times when I believe myself to be staring down the barrel of imminent doom, my brain is likely so pumped with adrenaline that I'm granted some chemical grace. Or maybe the fact that I haven't died is proof that I wasn't in as much danger as I thought, and I don't even know what that feels like to talk about. Sometimes I have this feeling like when I'm actually going to die, I probably won't see it coming at all or have time to feel anything about it at all. I'll just step off the curb and be gone.****

This is all seeming pretty morbid and I'm not really meaning to be. I guess what I really wanted to write about was storms. I always get a little funny during tornado season. All my life I've had this irrational fear that I'm some Jonah to storms. When I was running in the weather last night, I felt like lightning bait.

Ugh, I should go back to talking about my cake, which is going to be sublime, or any other thing. I should get up, and wash some clothes, and finish the dishes, and ice said cake.







*I fucking warned you.

**I was running in the thunderstorm, according to my meek animal brain is Big Noise Runaway Level Danger Threat 5.

***But what I will really want will be crepes.

****Anyone who has been on sidewalks with me knows how likely this is.

blackberry winter

Wonderful cut-offs mentioned a couple posts back. 

Fawn eye contact.

This is just showing off my already-tan. Between all the hiking and legends, I knew it wouldn't be long.

translucent

All my reports are put off this weekend, and I don't how to read the signs. I did take pictures, but I'll wait until I'm back west for them. I'm drinking alone in the sun with my skirt hiked to my thighs.

I'll feel fine

Man, I am a big liar pinkie-swear-breaker to the internet. Admittedly, last night I had a bunch of wine and typed a bunch of confessional incoherency into this thing, but it was nothing worth posting.

I have been in kind of a weird place. Not a bad place, exactly, but I feel like my head isn't quite properly attached to my body and that makes it hard to form complete sentences or keep my car from running off the road. Maybe the weather.

Sometimes I feel like the giant impersonal universe knows exactly what stupid, specific thing, I, 26 year old loser-nobody, needs, and appears willing to provide it. And sometimes it gets off on being withholding. What do you need? What do you want? The homeless woman who haunted my coffee shop and her one-eyed lover just walked past my office and she's still wearing the same white windbreaker. I feel no small bit of unflattering revulsion toward her. Here's a confession: to me, nothing right now is stupider and more indulgent than writing, especially writing about this, whatever this is, but I'm also weirdly in the mood for blogging. Maybe I'll take some photos when I go home and do a photopost. I like photoposts.

Yeesh.

feel the wave come up from your sulkiness, feel the ways you radiate now: sweet and plain unsingable name

I've felt mostly hungry, cloudy, and belligerent today, and I really want to write stuff, but my mind is so elsewhere. Pinkie swear I post something real tomorrow?