a hobby, a cat, a greater sense of meaning

I watched the sun fall beneath the Hudson in ankle socks, bell bottoms, and a checkered polo from the men’s section at Saver’s, writing because nothing has made me more aware of my stereotypes than a head of blue curls. Feet out in an open field, nothing to hide behind, I listened to Frankie Cosmos, befriended a golden retriever, and

gave you a call, come feel through my pockets for the lavender I ran through the wash. something about take turns being adults and eat avocado on rice cakes when our paycheck isn’t coming for a week.

In every daydream, we are laughing, in on some dumb mischief. What are the good things in your life?

I pet Achilles, the black cat that hangs out near Keen, and dropped my bag off for the night, turning around to catch the southbound.

Annandale is a quiet town, only because everything is so spread out. I feel safe at night because I don’t really care at night unless I’m cold. Shivering, I sat at the back of the bus and thought about the last few months. A season spent enjoying sleepiness and Redbull and for the first time, being around people. It took less than a month for strangers to become the people who form the lens I look at my life through, for better or for worse.

We sat in Hermes speeding in a thirty and then running five times through the roundabout, scavenging for ruckus and basic survival in Walmart, pulling into any Wendy’s noticed early enough in advance to brake. We ate tacky food, made fools of ourselves, slept on each other in the basement. Rarely have I ever felt so terribly dumb. Rarely have I ever felt so at home.

There’s always been this strong need to go away. A missing piece that keeps taking on the form of different things. That feeling was still there, but it was kinder, and it didn’t want to go alone.

Something about distance gives me a false sense of wisdom over the way things are, or at least a false sense of stagnancy, like things stop growing and shifting and becoming more beautiful when they’re far away. Thankfully, that is far from the truth.

Annandale Soundtrack:

This Stuff –Frankie Cosmos

We Can’t Predict the Future –The Flaming Lips

Full Body Yawn –Walter Mitty and His Makeshift Orchestra

Sky is a Bed –The Humble Cheaters

Embody –Frankie Cosmos