prosaic

it's 1:10 am, and late. it's quiet, it smells like ham, we cooked one this afternoon. john's been asleep since 11, river since 11:45. i was just about to go to sleep, when i was struck by something, i don't know what. it made me want to write. so here i am, with nothing coming to mind. i hate when i feel creative up until right at the moment i decide to let it out.


my extremities are so cold. river is going to remember that growing up, his mother always had cold hands. the lights are all out, the doors are locked, i am craving something sweet, my hair is tangled as always, i have three huge mother fucking zits on my face, my dog sheds every where, the vacuum is broken, and i need a job. well, that's my life right now, at this moment. how very prosaic.


i think i came back because i realized that as simple as all that is, i am so happy with my life right now, crazy and confusing and frustrating and beautiful and average and plain and boring and and...


whatever. goodnight. :)