Let us gaily tread the measure

Know what'd go down sweet about now? Summer vacation.



I am trying to focus on Holy shit, kid, we're in a recession and you work retail; be glad you have a job; you got it easy; consider the homeless; etc etc lower/middle class guilt etc.

But then I look out the window and ache for a nap in a sun and a middling dose of Adventure.

Flood photos always make my heart stop and the world blur at the edges.

I dreamed that I was in a book store, and found a dippy novel about a woman who fell in love with a flagpole sitter. I flipped it over to find the author and discovered that I wrote it.

"Of course I did," I said to myself, and promptly woke up.