more chopped hair. more weight gone. every lock gone is, i like to think, a thing i am leaving behind. my experiences absorbed and trapped in the thickness of this wig, gone with the snipping of shears. more pacific dreams today.

the sky looked like it was on fire earlier this evening, with stark beams of the setting sun shining through gaping holes in the dark overcast pattern. we got rain.

refreshed. i almost don't want to leave this place.

and now ain't that the joke: about ten months ago, i couldn't wait to blow this juke joint.

either way, i will never escape the ghost of you; vapors of your presence lazily floating through the air in the rafters. you will always be there, and i will always be here, whether i think i am or not.

-d