When we're found, oh we'll kiss that ground

Every night, I come home and listen to my Gregory Alan Isakov record and make a beautiful dinner and clean up and go for a run and then take a shower and think over and over again to myself: at least your tits look amazing seriously you dumb fucking bitch your tits are finally so good.

I'm remembering last fall, and having one of those moments where I realize a time-travel last fall me would in seriousness not believe any of my life right now and the things that are happening.

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I wanna write about my gettysburg sex/ghost vacation but I'm just this side of still catching up from it all. I'd say "I'm feeling kind of odd tonight" but that's literally what I've been posting for months and I should probably think of something else to say eventually. If I ever had any readers, I'd lose them. Tiresome sad girl.

Here's something though:

Where Col Lewis Armistead fell, the furthest any Confederate ever got on Pickett's charge, running to see his friend on the Union side. I know I've written about the story on here before and what it means to me. The scroll monument is for him: to mark where he was mortally wounded. He never saw the friend he was trying to find, so their last words to each other would remain as they had parted during peacetime:

"Goodbye, you can never know what this has cost me."

But I like some of the last words he said to the Union soldiers who came up to him after he'd been hit on the Gettysburg field a little better. "I'm not surrendering; I'm dying."

Oh, Lo.