Sleeping, driving, closing bank accounts, moving everything into the front center room where we used to do everything in another world.
Dancing last night to Neck of the Woods and remembering the dance parties Kadense and all their lovers had — the whole time Bel[taen] being the “neutral party”. And Kadense, so beauitful and full of dreams then, sexual and glowing in a pair of oversized mauve-colored sweats you now wear to bed.
Upstairs, the room is cold and empty and there’s a mark on the wall where I tried to get that mushroom hook off. I had better leave the other one, which feels like a very small kind of tragedy.
In the city/town on the riverfront, that room where Charcoal used to brood dark and drugged and impossible is now covered in flowers and whites with pale pinks and greens. There’s a table where the ropes and impliments of pain’s border used to be. There’s towels and washclothes where the single white thing — two bathrobes — used to be.
I drove to town and remembered how far away that is. How did we ever get used to this? Think we could walk or bike this? Oh, that’s right. We never did. It was pure insanity.
The rain falls warm and sticky here like little yokai tapping you on the head, shoulders, nose — but hardly leaving any chill. These are still teasing spirits, but they don’t make you cold. They make you wide awake and stir in the light, wondering where exactly that fog and those glowing eyes originate from. The lights still dim when you are terrified from them. The tingling in your feet feels the same in the cold as it does this nearby heat.
There’s two bottles of alcohol on the counter there. I can only remember the invention of Charcoal, practically blind drunk after three beers each of us, and in the morning a drunken mess of popcorn and sloppy dishes all over the place. Do you remember that first time? Did you know it was trouble?
If I recall, Charcoal said: “Don’t spend too much time with me. You’ll turn into a drugie and an alocholic.”
That thought should probably surface at some significant point.
I’m debating drinking the rest of that whiskey before I get the chance to bring it back. Do I want to be drunk alone? Perhaps not in this space…
A single deer, two handfuls of crows, true blue jays and red cardinals. A single female; I know because they are distinguishable. A raccoon and a wild turkey with feathers all like the stars that did not come out last night through the mist and the fog that comes from nowhere at all.
A dream may or may not have happened upon me in the night.
Tomorrow morning’s sunrise, I might find stranger things yet to come.
For now, I am preparing to make this change subtly and with grace.
So far, the universe has agreed that I ought to be able to.
The wind, for now, is all for this.
On the other side, we’ll just have to see how all of these things fit.