winding down, cranking it up.

it's the small things that kill me.

the little decision i'm forced to make by myself that makes all the difference.
the one sung lyric that fills my heart
the tiny brush stroke i can't ignore
only one small word reminding me that he hasn't forgotten.


the music, the people, the love.

the next red light.

the smell of fire is strong this morning.
and my head is spinning, along with the room i am sitting in.
bad ideas all around last night.
well. . .not as bad as they could have been.
the point is that i feel like ass, and all i can think about is the breakfast bagel that is waiting for me downtown.


downtown. . .yeah right.
a forest fire is raging 20 miles away, and i use the phrase "downtown." as if ely were more than three blocks around.
anyway. the smell of fire is constant.
i haven't really decided how i feel about that one yet.

sugar and the jitters

i'm running low on tea. and what's left of it is now cold.
but it's still sweet and creamy, with enough kick to keep my eyes open for at least a few more hours.

my belly is nearly empty. that's because there were no eggs for breakfast, as i had been promised.
his word isn't any good, and he doesn't respect me enough. but his smile works, his eyes are deep, and his voice just kills me.
so he is forgiven.

each moment i spend with him is an act of sabotage.
and for what? a poorly kept secret and a summer of awkward suspense. but how happy this makes me. . .an ounce of satisfaction goes a long way these days.