for the past
couple of nights i slept well again for the first time in recorded memory – without waking up at three or four in the morning. we’re ramping up to the vacation and for me to the planes. friday was bad, was the angry day in the whole world, was suicide bombs, murdering princes, fighting at cha cha cha, boiling over, paranoia, fear, hurt, on three hours sleep from the sad thursday evening.
i would like to be able to channel the frightening passage of dark plane images right on by into a peaceful place, and i’m trying to gather my wits about me to do this. to not feel like everything’s an omen, and a bad one at that. to not dwell in the awful areas.
because i really look forward to the markets of provence.
rudy, i think of touching the side of the plane while embarking most every day now; i watched blake long and far down into the doorway towards burbank from oakland yesterday, and wondered if she was touching the door. i visited and learned that are chances are one in about a billion.
but it’s not the normal that i fear. this is all about the freak sad shocking thing. the overwhelming need to make sure my family knows i love them, to write my will, and to apologize in advance.
the image of the woman stranded by the roadway visits me again and i try to explain it to leanne but i don’t understand it myself and i wish i did and i certainly wish she did. the tire is flat. she had her best dress on. it is starting to rain. the colors are running.
i decided it’s time to get a tattoo or maybe two. maybe a cow; maybe certainly a cow. and saturn; oh saturn.
the giant foghorn at four in the morning. okay dammit; so if it is an omen, let it be an omen i love. i love the fog.

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