Annals of Bohem

i woke up a zombie this morning. when i landed in my nest, i took the plants outside to water them. i’m too fond of neglect (a dead cemeterrarium sits to the right). i read outside to keep the plants and the cat company. i’ve been saving anais nin for those moments where i need her to be my guide. i didn’t last long in the sun.

my nap felt like i was trying out a coffin instead of giving into fatigue. i lay a scarf on the floor next to my heater and curled up— still nothing. it took bear to help me find a bit of rest.

zombies, like most creatures, need sunlight. i packed up anais, walked out the door on auto-pilot with two halves of a kiwi and a spoon. the tartness of the kiwi helped me feel for a moment. a friend down the block wants to get frames next weekend. i have a soft spot for framing.

in the park, my casual reading was more of a survey of all the too-happy park goers and their dogs. mama broke my concentration. she knew something was wrong.

the man at goodwill sensed i had a bad day. he made me laugh and told me jokes. i bought an ugly pair of shoes and an ugly pair of jeans. i half hoped the world could forget me with that purchase.

i ran across the street to get a quesadilla, my treat.

i ate it with a knife and fork while sitting in my chair that i never sit in.

damnit.

i forgot the ice cream.

Annals of Bohem

Fine Folk