here first. until we are there.

and everything is bleached

this began with an italo calvino story. and how in the morning, he woke up and realized that what he thought was beautiful was just a white wall, peeling in the harsh sunlight.

this began with sinta where the sun comes out and moon turns out to be made of foil.

this began with hoping that if i just got through the night, it would be better tomorrow.


i was going to talk about just seeing things for what they are until i realized, that relaly when your teeth hurt, your throat smarts every time you laugh or cough and you know you’ve got sick bubbles in you just waiting to get out…

who cares about anything else?

the body needs attention, dammit.


completely different context, but “i think i have a better sense of humor about things.”

and only i can hear the rimshot.


and in true ditz fashion, kisses my luv-ers.

i love you, take a cookie.


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