...a big crush of
, + without the right umbrella.
i think i thought i was going to sleep.
reading about
cayce [pas edgar], cataloguing my own peculiar allergies
[first: the second chapter is already tooooo referential for this moment, like walking into a fabric store + suffocating on myriad cheap dyes--by design i am sure, empathetic response--but oh, i want to forget the book already, despite knowing better...]
why won't they just comply, find a place...?
it was so easy for the other two.
do they sense my recent brand disloyalties from afar?
[a tiny bit pins + needles, despite knowing better
--anyway, i think
redeux will tell me to stay home.]
all my days are blue
all my days are bright...
for now:
♥ mrs. piggle-wiggle's upside down house with the campfire-chandelier in the center of the floor
♥ new silvery flask
♥ e's careful appraisals + hot pink spraypainted ghetto-blaster with 'something like a phenomenon...!' spelled out on top in white letter-stickers, goldie in one deck + bacharach in the other
♥ cut-grass smell everywhere this morning [does demeter still bottle it? someone gave me ginger-ale, but it always smelled vaguely boozy] + first rain in a g e s in a few hours...
must stop waiting for it now xx