Sunday November 2, 2014

I read my play. And it’s terrible.

My best boots have gone missing.

The date was broken.

Anger welled up.

I drank the last of the marigold tea. Two out of three little red Scottish tea tins are empty now.

I saved the rest of the ice cream from freezer burn after I ran in the freezing cold.

I endured the mall. Spoils were won.

Another dream I had is sidling back into the queue deflated and unrealized.

When I made the apple crisp I remembered the frozen blackberries.

I put on mascara for nothing. It ran when I did. Now, I have to get it off.

The wind is still moaning. Winter is here for its audition. It’s killing it. I suspect it will get the part.

I’m feeling a little sadder today than I have felt on some other days. And when that changes again, I will also enjoy that contrast.


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