The flies are circling everywhere. They are not pretty. Saturday morning I killed four while playing post office girl. I sprayed them with eco-friendly cleaner then swatted them with sheets of one-cent Tiffany-lamp stamps and didn’t feel one bit sorry.
I crossed-off the fifteenth of October on the calendar then decided to quit. I am not a government employee. I don’t really care whether or not you can pay a flat-rate fee to ship barbeque sauce to Africa. The discount on kombucha is not worth the time I’m not writing.
There have been more sirens. Every day for three days.
Houseflies live for approximately thirty days. They don’t know winter is coming. They are born just for garbage.
Hallelujah. I am once again jobless. You didn't know I had a job because it was a silly idea.
All’s A-ok.
I received a B in Relaxing. Am learning to carry the shape of an egg in the pits of my arms. Am going into mile-high debt in-order to receive meditation instruction under perpetual sunshine for free, in-order to fall madly deeply in-love with living.
The chapters are lining-up in blizzard clouds accumulating west of the mountains. I hope I hope-
I miss you.
