Here’s the thing I’m thinking about today, it’s the way you took your foot out of your croc and squiggled it around on top of mine and when I laughed you said, “Feels good, right?”
It sort of did and sort of didn’t — like sleeping with a dress on, like wetting your pants, like wearing a hat indoors. It was weird to be standing next to the stone wall, looking out across the park and feel your toes through the top of my canvas shoe.
I sent you a photo the next day and I remember thinking how slim my fingers looked against my skin and I remember feeling good — pale and proud, jeans unfocused on the floor below.
I pulled my first book from Amazon today. Rather, I logged in and shifted a check mark from the left-most (Active) column to the right-most (Closed) column. I thought about stopping over in the center (Suspended) for a bit but then I thought, if I’m going to do the damn thing…
Next weekend marks the six-year anniversary of All Downhill. It’s also my six-week anniversary of being in San Fransisco. As the former was totally and entirely tied to a place (both in time and geography) and the latter is totally and entirely unlinked from that, it feels appropriate to cut ’em both loose. It reminds me of something Sean Christopher Nelson said on twitter a few months ago, about Flagpole Sitta. He said he was happy people enjoyed his song but it was weird to be remembered for something he did when he was 22.
So. A bittersweet moment, but time for a change.