When the moon rises in fuck

Bad shit happens. Tonight there was a heart attack a misscarriage and an incident on a swing, in between there was meat and tomatoes and some tears.

My good friend's father, my other good friend's uterus, and another's child on my good friend's swing. We only meant to be together for the season's tomatoes and Gartner's meat crack, but bad shit happens.

So you stick together, or try to and mostly succeed.

The day heated up brightly, I castigated myself for not riding my bycycle, but if you have ever had a period you'd know that bikes and cycles (ha!) are not so condusive. I keep having these dreams about making out with people at work I am not the slightest bit attracted to.

I am going up to the Olympic Peninsula with some friends at the end of September, I can't wait to step between the rasor clams and wade and wade in that glacially clear water, to scent the tide water like I scent the sun on my skin, a wide open sky, a cacophany of quiet.