A LIST OF THINGS TO DO TODAY:
1. I am sitting, picking the skins of paints from the back of my hand, and trying to write a list of truths and a lie, because - as if this was a mirror, throwing the light back at me through my midnight window - I am both drawn by the possibility and yet repelled, sure that seeking it out will cause something to jump out at me from the dark hedges of my life, and yet I am thrilled by the idea of that wild punch in darkness, licking me for good.
2. Ello, can I say: I am eating up all you writers and poets like the last morsels of supper, like saving the very best bits for the morning after, like bringing your hand to your face while looking in the mirror and tasting the briefest scent of garlic, butter, fresh herbs, and memory, memory, memory.
3. I am thrown, backwards, into memory: there are midnight words embedded there, like quartz, like the bright screen of typing into the night, like the nascent possibilities of a story and a plot dawning in that space between you and I, and in moments like these I miss you, though I squint into that light and realized I've always missed you, even when my aim was true.