compilations, for better or worse
i have no qualms about blaming this on the house. the peeling paint and the ever present clouds can duke it out. either way, they leave a petulant girl down for the count. i close my eyes and see worn out oak, taste the grit of paint in my mouth (no doubt lead-based), and my ears ring from constant use of bright orange power tools. we were not made for this.
Curse of the baptist-raised first born: Ye shall feel obligated without ceasing.
Yesterday, Dad called from outside a catholic funeral home on a drizzly Brooklyn intersection. That was what he called to tell me - where he was standing and how appropriate it seemed. More and more, I recognize that I am my father's daughter.
The clouds are really doing a number on us this year. 300 Days of Sunshine in the Rockies is sounding better and better. Just as the amount of hits on the "How to Move to Canada" page doubled the day after Election Day in 2004, so will the number of inquiries on the "So You're Moving to Colorado" page after this summer has run its northwestern course.
A friend from college called yesterday. We lead completely different lives now than we did when we were eighteen and were primarily concerned with tattoos and going to shows. Talking to familiar voices about unfamiliar experiences.
