and then...spaces

The things are too many. I have too many things.

I know it's Sunday not Monday but I'll be even busier tomorrow so you get an early post. Happy Sunday :)

I got rid of half of what I owned not three months ago, and there's still too much! 

I'm packing to move and realizing how ridiculous I am. I don't need this many clothes. I should make all my books digital. I don't need so many pillows. or blankets. or soaps, jeez! 

Life is nearly never simple enough and life is too short. I don't have much, really. a little bit of jewelery, some good shoes, too many clothes because nothing fits quite right. But Alan and I are in joy, as he's a simple kind of boy. He wants to make songs. I like to make stories, myself. We're really excited about maybe gettin to do those things each day. As Bob Ross said, every day's a good day when you paint!

So, engagement is my new thing. I no longer have male friends; I only have male suitors. Which is to say, zero. I have Zero. 

It's not that I'm not mature enough to befriend males and what have you, but they aren't mature enough. And no boy's gunna marry me when he can just be my friend, gosh, they're usually too lazy for that. 

Today is Eid and the like. I get to wear pretty. I got a big book in the mail today, male today. It's all about film. So, how to fit, everything in the car, fitting in the car, fit him for the in the car, my boy made cargo, oh oh, that's kidnapping, so....

He said no it's happy tape it only stick to itself, my cowlicks will be lick licking finely made, I just keep my mouth under tape. Drums speak. And that's why, spaces. I have to pack :( 

and then...tides

I have a reading dry spell. I get overwhelmed, there's too much to read, and I'm not going to find what I'm really looking for because what I'm really looking for is what I'm writing. 

But fifty percent of writing is reading yadayada. I know I need to get back in the game etc.

So, moons. My beta muse is moon complete, he wakes the night in the night. He shrieks flood, the flood is coming, and I learn it's meaning. Tides under moons.

I can tell you about the writing process, sure. But I can't tell you about the creative process. No matter how many years I spend trying to fight the mysticism, it will always win. 

I don't shy from techinicalities, though. I don't gloss over. I suppose that, in the future, when I am asked how I write, I will give the technicalities as far as I am able. I am unafraid to expose bones, expose bones as many. But how did the bones get there? Don't think to ask. 

Today is Mickey Willard's birthday. My favorite artist, I'm waiting to see her everywhere. And working to see me everywhere. Maybe we'll be everywhere; contrast and sihlouette. Waiting working, what was this? OH YES. TIDES MAKE. A place of our own.

Alan Cope and I are moving soon. There will be a room for me and a room for him, other words made, I'll have space for my own office! I build simple furniture and make fresh food and live in the middle of nowhere. We'll get to a city soon. When money happens lush. Excitement abounds. 

As a side note: thank you Bob Ross, from every person with ASMR. THANK YOU. 

Fun find: Target now carries SMASH products. I had a coniption. I bought a stamp. My journal yearns for me handsome. Mymymy. I'm grateful for this world. I'm grateful for Edward Norton's voice. 

I know, bits and bits. It's hard to update of late.