Down

And here I am, down again. It's a notation in lj, a little bit of dread somewhere between my heart and my stomach, and a slow day out the door. I think I've spent too much time indoors sleeping lately.

I want a safe place.

This post will be obsolete by the time you read it. I'll be working, or apartment-hunting, or dropping off my rent cheque, or possibly even building shelves with the Juggler.

Once I get out the door, this will be done with. It's just that the door feels like an impenetrable barrier.

I've been spending too much time thinking and talking about Mouse, too. Need to stop that.

Need to get my hands in the good dirt. Next project should be building raised bed boxes for behind Chris' house, then we can grab some compost and do raised beds. Spring is out there, I've seen the hazel catkins. It's time to get my nose in the dirt.

Don't it always seem to go, you don't know what you've got till it's gone. They paved paradise, put up a parking lot.

Is anyone available Wednesday from about 2/2:30 to 6? Wanna go walk the seawall or roam the endowment lands or something? We can smell things and touch them and stop to look when it's pretty. This means you.

From Greatpoets

Billy Merrell - Talking in the Dark

Before college, before high school, before my voice
finally cracked, before I could do my first pull-up,
and long before my first real kiss, you and I

held the same girls’ hands. First Karen, then Tiffany,
then Jessica. And by the time you kissed Amy, I knew
it wasn’t her I wanted to kiss. I spent the night at your house

and we talked in the dark until we fell asleep. Those years
were short ones, seem shorter now. I hated myself for lying
so still in the bed beside you, as awkward as a body

and as inarticulate. I have never wanted to kiss you,
only hold you now and then or be held. I know now
that you wouldn’t have cared and just wanted to be

trusted. I have pictures of us with girls at dances.
I’m wearing my father’s dress shirt. It balloons away
from my body. But you are right there next to me,

in my shirt’s reach. Later you won’t stand so close, and Amy
will have to pose us, pleading closer. No, no. Closer.

*runs out the door to work, thinking of beaches and forests*