so this is Christmas. I'm home--new home, mom's new home, grandparents old summer home, etc. Many things just not being filtered through the conscious mind. I listened to my mom explain the recent drama and seeming collapse of my family's togetherness. I watched her get really emotional, and I know she is having a hard year. I am glad to be back, but it is strange to be the one with the least messy fall-apart. I am the brick on the beach, as it were. My sister is living in a new place with her long time companion; but there are issues there, I hear. My mom's glad to have me here, and I am glad to be here. I have a busy break, socially, and I need to be strong to get through it healthily. I am seeing now that I will have to catch up on five months of change in only three weeks. I miss the quiet comfort of my St. John's life. I miss the peace I had before trying to force a quarter Gravol down my precious cat's throat. Now she hates me.I have a short story percolating that I'd like to draft while I'm here. It is, of course, an inner piece--very personal and internal for the character--a lonely guy who lives with a cat. He watches his cat--fuck it. It is now more than ever seeming to be a diary entry with a third-person name. I guess that's ok.
think aliens
pets
past
future
present
urban
before || after
