The memory of smoke

The memory of smoke

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

How many flat answers before I deck her?

One of these days, Noseypants is going to ask me about the house or the garden, and I'm going to pop her in her stupid nose. How the fuck can she not know that I am revolted that she expresses more interest in my house than I ever have or will? How can she not see that I am not going to talk with her about my most personal manifestation of home?

Lazy, deluded, entitled princess.

Saturday, February 25, 2012

But sometimes help isn't.

The once-dear friend's birthday was this week. I thought of her. If I'd thought she'd've been pleased, I would've sent her greetings and good wishes.

Not convinced, so I left it alone, which is sad.

Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Not like I'd've sent a card anyway.

Today would have been my crappy father's 89th birthday. But he's dead, so he doesn't get one. So there.

Such a relief.

Saturday, February 18, 2012

But mercifully short

And it's over. Strange. Maybe the start of the real end.

All previous attempts apparently premature.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Why on a slow month, I'm taking a real sick day.

Three weeks? Only 24 days since the last one started. Why is it coming around again?

Really miserable one as well.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Most beautiful place

And I continue to take in the beauty of the space. That is ours. No matter what else happens, I am glad of this moment.

This eternal now.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

These things take time

So glad to be home. It's inexpressible, profound, and subtle. I can see that the cat feels it.

Even my dear one is allowing himself to settle in rather than just hunker down.