*way late post: It's the middle of November. There's fresh rain on the ground, and the leaves have gone red, orange, and brown. The wind tousles hair and branches, sends loose things to all corners. When the sun makes an appearance there's that familiar feeling of the calm after the storm. I'm writing today after a two week absence of spirit.
I've got two weeks of backlogged entries to get out for whatever reason that compels me to blog in this day and age. Two weeks of thought patterns and emotions to lay down on the digital page and put behind me, though the collectivist impulse carries on into the forthcoming week. I am an archivist. I've said it before. This is the tapestry of my life, grueling in all it's details, but somehow there is a larger shape and pattern that will emerge.
I spent much of this weekend at my friend Ian's house. We had a pre-Thanksgiving feast and watched a terrible movie called Thankskilling. This was the week of the Twinkie pre-crisis as Hostess announced it would be going out of business. This is the week I came home and fell asleep to a giant playlist of songstowearpantsto. The End.