Dreamt of her handwriting on an envelope, thick with some garment she’d mailed to me as a gift, and I realized as I held it that it was the last thing she’ll ever send me, that there won’t ever be any more of her writing in the world. Everything she could make or do or say exists now, or never will. I woke gasping with grief, and a new awareness that she’s really gone.
The difference in time is that we glance back
at those who stayed in time and didn’t come with us,
and see ourselves still back there talking to them.
—Miller Williams, Notes from the Agent on Earth: How to Be Human
Wine and deep conversation with Kendra.
Kendra, who lives so close I was still connected to our wifi at her house.
It’s a gorgeous, sunny day in SF.
As of tomorrow, I’ll finally be able to stop lying to all our friends.
Flying to Portland this Friday - and even though a LOT of people I want to see will be away, I can still laugh at the fact, and make other plans.
16 days of happy disbelief, acclimation, and looking forward with excitement.
2 days until more will be revealed.
3 days until we host a dinner party.
4 days until I fly north.
40 days until things change again.
Whoops. This post was supposed to go elsewhere, but here’s a short list of appreciations for July 19.
- The bookcases are set up and my books are again visible.
- So sunny and beautiful yesterday.
- Everyone I care about is healthy (as far as I know).
- It looks like I’ll be working steadily.
- Noticing that I’m reframing “annoyances” as “opportunities for growth”.
When you find yourself tired of driving around a semi-truck full of too much stuff, and your passenger is someone who’s been occupying a lot of your mental real estate for too many years, it’s important to toss your unconscious a note of thanks, and embrace the freedom that’s been offered.
Sometimes, things can be easy.
So is irritation, but a neon pearl would just… miss.
(via ayse)
Drop Cloth Curtains, courtesy of @abchao. Lovely.
There was a little boy in the Powell’s Garden store who could easily have been the demo voice of Elmo. Unique combination of eager excitement plus an almost puppet-like delivery of simple tones - joyous but perhaps exhausting to keep up with. The kind of voice that can only come from a child whose mouth has never formed a murmur, who hasn’t yet been quelled.
Wanting, needing a place to write, but not sure this is the place.
