While the overall situation of my life remains intensely stressful, this evening I visited Porter Square Books to pick up my months-awaited copy of M. John Harrison's The Sunken Land Begins to Rise Again (2020) and there met
spatch who, finding himself in a bookstore for the first time in more than two years, first collected Susan Fleming Marx's Speaking of Harpo (2022) and then presented me with Alan Cumming's Baggage: Tales from a Fully Packed Life (2019) and a small molded rubber leucistic axolotl. Also I got soft-serve ice cream earlier in the afternoon and ordered a small, but received a sort of medium large, which became lunch.
selkie is shipping me a book. I miss my library more than I miss my furniture, but these things are not terrible.
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Page Summary
Active Entries
- 1: Let the lights run like rivers all over my skin
- 2: I am bound to these shores, I'll be bound till the end
- 3: Wish everyone could hear when she sings
- 4: All the ghosts, some old, some new
- 5: I cannot feel it, the veil of black, a fine spray of white paint
- 6: I make sure there are hidden messages in my work
- 7: I'll stay out until my mind is like a clear glass
- 8: The wind is blowing the planes around
- 9: Pilgrimage, private life, mortality
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- Style: Classic for Refried Tablet by and
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