i still listen to the cure.
eat foreign vegetables.
eat Second Slice pizza.
stay up late.
never finish books.
obsess about apologizing and loneliness.
somehow I think i should know better by now.
and part of me cares deeply about altering my choices.
part of me can not be bothered.
there is another part of me, a greater part, however, that aches knowing that i'm not a better person.
a better writer.
so i sit. here. in victoria. thinking about what city is next.
some people know what i have in mind.
most do not.
i plan to keep it that way for a bit.
until i am a little more settled in my head.
i have hardly written this year.
that pains me.
looking back always does.
but this is just it.
ihave a bed partner. a friend. a feminist. a book finisher. a cook. a collector.
he has become my life. although i am aware of the kind of response i may receive in response to such a statement,
it. is. okay.
now what i deal with on a daily basis are questions of time, trust, space, response, observation, ability, compatibility, judgement, and peace.
lists kristina. always with the lists.