I got out today for a walk, and things are fine. I'm a little tired -- listening to too much Bjork and Beck. But you know how I am. Maybe there's always something melancholy about February, yeah? And, just so you know, I'm not drinking myself into oblivion, anymore, these days. Or wishing I was living someone else's life. Or dead. Or, even, walking dead. (God, how I've already spent so many years trying on that life to live like regular people. For sure.) In all these months, really, the biggest thing I'd forgotten is just how bad regular American television is. I haven't had a reason to switch on the set in god knows how long. Or even to feel bad about anything, really. Sure, there are momentary snatch-grab-moments of tease and tears, but mostly everything has been fine. And the weather is brilliant now. How strange the way things change and so quickly. How swift and slow the world rocks and goes. When we give it the time and space.

All my love and even then some.





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