Side-walk
+ How the hand-wound slowly sews itself and then puckers into the palm, no farewell when it's tucked away and gone. After an "unfortunate encounter" last week when after midnight a homeless person knocked me in the head with a plastic pipe and I ran way only to fall down drunk over a craggy sidewalk and scraping up my face, arm and hand, I've carried on this last week straight ahead and handled it well. I did show up for work the next day with a torn face and bandaged hand, but went home when my skull was pounding and too much to stand. Sometimes we need little "accidents" to make us appreciate things like how indelibly the body heals and seemingly recreates itself out of nothing, flesh and bone alike. No, life doesn't have to be a struggle, but the body can be the shifting map or fragile document that does not forget.
+ Bouncing around between bookshelves, customers and moody employees has been keeping me pretty busy, but somehow I find time to squeeze in the occasional entertainment. Still it's not as much as I have been, but I've been taking it easier (to a degree) and nesting my crib and trying to figure out songs on a cheap guitar and how to perfect grilled cheese and broken windows. Autumn is officially here, but Arkansas heat clings on with sticky hands. I even broke out my sweater box and thought that would make the air smell crisper and easier to get down the sidewalk, to the bus stop and into the shop. It's coming yet. Fall's when I do my best work, or rather I'm a better version of me when nobody's looking. When leaves are falling, I don't feel so trapped.
Love,
Isom-Chad
+ Bouncing around between bookshelves, customers and moody employees has been keeping me pretty busy, but somehow I find time to squeeze in the occasional entertainment. Still it's not as much as I have been, but I've been taking it easier (to a degree) and nesting my crib and trying to figure out songs on a cheap guitar and how to perfect grilled cheese and broken windows. Autumn is officially here, but Arkansas heat clings on with sticky hands. I even broke out my sweater box and thought that would make the air smell crisper and easier to get down the sidewalk, to the bus stop and into the shop. It's coming yet. Fall's when I do my best work, or rather I'm a better version of me when nobody's looking. When leaves are falling, I don't feel so trapped.
Love,
Isom-Chad