unplanted

once in a blue moon

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Realized just today that it’s been quite a while since I last posted anything here. I guess that means there hasn’t been much to say. Or maybe it means I haven’t wanted to say much. Regardless, here’s a post, just for the sake of posting.

It’s mighty cold out today, a blustery day. I thought of washing my car, but thought better of it after a few minutes outside. I think this might be a good day for Alki. The wind. The waves. And coffee. It’s definately a day for coffee. The last cup from pot I made this morning has grown bitter, but I can’t stop drinking it.

Last weekend, on an outing with Ant, I bought a collection of Joyce Carol Oates stories. Each one is pretty short–only a few pages at best–but brilliant. Each story is the world. I forget, sometimes, the genius that’s out there. It’s a day for curling up and reading.

Last night I had a dream about my friend John Paul, that his life was solid, good. I dreamed that he was living with in his girlfriend’s parents’ house, that they were all gone and he was left to his druthers. He did yardwork and played with the dog. He wrote and narrated his day as it passed (in the grand tradition of The Wonder Years, sort of). I woke up wondering about him and all the other people I’ve slowly lost touch with. I hope they’re all well.

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Author: Kim Sharp

more later

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