Navel/Naval

Are the oranges/are not the oranges. Like a chakra, not a ship.

There aren't any more boring days, no smooth grey days. All of them loom and peak and trough. I am beginning to be afraid that this is how it has to be all the goddamn time. Let me begin again.

Most of the time, I find myself at one end of a hard conversation. Troubles and drama-not mine, but borrowed for a minute. And it is what I've gotten good at.

Sometimes, though, like today...there's no one else. Nobody's problems, no confessions or fears or tears or interventions of various proportions. There's just me and mine, alone at the end of the day.

These are the moments when I'd drag myself out of bed, storm out to my stoop. Smoke like the angst was bees in my lungs, and try and measure out what self-destruction I have left in discrete, hot little clocks. I miss the winter, cigarettes and the cold blue moon. And my stoop, and my self destruction. I miss not knowing, and I miss waxing. Like the moon isn't.

Primary

Now, I realize that I haven't been keeping current on this lately-in my defense, my life's been all caught up and twisted by the threshold of the Spring. The absent Spring, liminal nonetheless. So yes, I have a lot going on, which I will, I imagine, at some point elaborate on.

But in the meantime, I'm OK, well, enjoying the heat and the sun and the lush greenery of Summertime. Walking along the river today, I was struck by the incongruity of the heat and the high river-it's a little thing, but odd in how it was noticeable even though it was so trivial. Living here so long, becoming so intimately involved in the neighborhood...it's a wonderful, adult feeling. All that experience and comfort accumulating...once again(and I know, I know, I'm predictable) I like getting old. I highly recommend it.

Otherwise, it's the hot, long-dayed time of year. I hope I'll see more of most of you as you venture out into the comfortable evenings, and if you find yourselves out in the heat, remember...I have AC.