getting used to waking up very early. drinking coffee again. and lots of water. cooking in the kitchen and setting out utensils. using markers and reading scripts. running around an old school in the skeleton of catholicism. not using the internet, except in tiny moments and starting to be o.k. with it. reading poetry and re-reading poetry in the very sleepy moments of an early bedtime and squeaky airmattress. my back hurts. i am tired and rejuvenated. by art and togetherness and jobs i have created for myself like quote of the day. and sneaking off at quick times to smoke around the corner or call someone very loved.
we are wearing lots of layers in the height of summer on the cold north coast surrounded by redwoods and grass and elves (i swear), and going without showers. creating lists. of errand run items. and fun excursions to do when i get home. and postcard people. and things i am obsessed with these days like the a ghost is born album and specifically, hummingbird; teaching andres everything beatles; crafting things with yarn for personal adornment; the anticipation of mail; menthols; hymmnn & song by allen ginsberg; the road by jackson browne; sweetnlow; learning; she belongs to me by bob dylan; dresses; patches; virtual kisses; being brave; or trying. to be brave.