Things I think of that don't happen

A tiny tiny crushing headache

Apparently the great fissure has started with my right index finger. From there, I will slowly split apart into two people.

what a precious thing we've lost

1. flaming pumpkin head
2. teenagers with typewriters
3. evidence taken from a crime scene
4. phone call from mexico
5. indoor smoking
6. quarries in spain
7. stars and hearts (each fake)
8. 5 different bike shops
9. N/R 4,5,6
10. El Paso
11. plastic bullets
12. parabolas and mirrors and sinking sinking feelings
13. A clock with only one hand
14. Faking epilepsy
15. exploded discs
16. 410 breaths before you lose count
17. overhearing ugly things
18. ignoring protocol
19. breathing air that's never been breathed before
20. The smell of something 10 years old
21. optimism
22. sea glass
23. birthdays ignored (not forgotten)
24. lame lame lame
25. looking in three places at once
26. an old friend returning to CT
27. Having changed (and changed back)
28. The game I play with the radiator and falling asleep before it turns on
29. Not having won that game in a long time
30. A list of 100 things to do with a returned gift
31. leaving things behind to save them from the rain
32. changes in career plans
33. one year anniversaries
34. scars on shins
35. flake white pumpkin seed
36. flash photos in a museum
37. hatemail
38. arhythmia medication
39. medic alert bracelet
40. walk-in clinic
41. fake thanksgiving
42. lead asbestos dust
43. snow flurries
44. selling things for boyscouts
45. what the ocean used to be
46. velvet ropes in the back of a pick-up truck
47. big gifts you can't reciprocate
48. spooky
49. the analog sunset made literally...figuratively
50. wondering if jillian will read this
51. wondering if it will make sense to her
52. knowing that it won't have to
53. ghost to ghost
54. with a flaming pumpkin head

It felt like someone punched me in the back of the head and my sinuses instantly cleared and I had a little trouble focusing my eyes and my neighborhood smelled different.

thursday bicycle mystery (in reverse order)

my best friends

I will send this in the morning

1.0003 x 10^4

I took a spur of the moment field trip today. I started driving in the direction of my parents house (a few states away) but I ended up turning north and found my way to the town I was born in and spent my first 9 years. Horseheads. I spent a few hours wandering around, trying to reconcile how it is on the outside with how it is on the inside. The first third of my life is clouded to the point where I'm not even sure if I can trust the life-changing-traumas and the future-shaping-events that I've built myself up from. Where does that leave me? The radio stations played the same music now as they did when I was 8 and in the car with my mom going to the grocery store. Tina Turner, Billy Joel, Police, back to back. a space shuttle had exploded. I drove on the same street I was on when that happened. I parked my car in front of my old house. I hadn't seen it since the eighties. It was brown then, it's tan now. and smaller. Same with the Zurcher's house, and that other kid, that we didn't like. There are apartments now between my neighborhood and airport. There used to only be a cornfield. Virgin fires and the first time in your life when you genuinely think you are going to die.

Then I drove up to my parents summer place, a few more hours away. They were there. So was my grandfather from Texas. Surprise. We took a boat ride and they even accomodated the vegetarian for dinner. I forgot about my second life, and my third for a while. The hills around the fingerlakes were so so green and the water was so so blue. I have turned 0.3% farther than I was aiming, but momentum is a powerful thing.

the desk that I draw on is in another town now