love and oats and earl grey tea
Sooner or later reality will cut your hair.
I am preparing for a life of eating frozen pizza in the winter and wearing a scarf in my own apartment. I will be a poorly made french film, and my friends will inconsistently hold day jobs.
But what robinhood film doesn't begin with the saving of a dear poacher?
And what failed artist's life does not begin with a little confidence?
The past is only as good as the story you make of it.
not everyone loads the dishwasher from the back to the front,
and i write to apologize.
this splintered mast i'm holding on won't save me long.
And the stakes are too high, and the danger too great,
to permit even the slightest hint of irresolution.
I hope the twists and turns will not disallow our arrival
at some place of mutual advantage, pleasure, and safety.
Life is short, and yet it can seem so very long.
So here goes:
I'm sorry I both truly and also metaphorically
put the tea-water on but forgot to turn the burner's nob.
We will have to have russian earl grey at some other point in life.
with love and oats,