life during wartime
I've been without my primary email account for the past three weeks or so, and I can't say I'm missing anything. I have a couple other accounts and considered sending an email to everyone I know informing them of my other addresses, but who am I kidding?
I look at missed connections and wonder if someone might've missed a connection with me, but then I realize that I never seem to leave the house these days, and when I do, I blend right into the sidewalk.
I've got no interest in meeting people or dating, yet I still crave the experience of knowing someone and being known in return. I want to skip the small talk and zip myself up into someone else's skin, in the best possible way. Tear down our walls and build a park out of the rubble. Run down the toilet paper roll and stare at each other through the tube.
Solitude is a hair shirt, indeed.
I've had the taste of milk in my mouth today.
The sound of my building drives me a little crazy, but hearing the T rolling underground makes me feel like a part of the machine.
I'm unworthy of the sounds my guitar makes. The cracks on the top are already getting worse. I am inadvertently killing it.
Everything will be fine.