a night

we met my brother's friend at an antique store that his friend's friend owned. we admired a john lennon circa sgt pepper's jacket. i bought a doors cd for $1. my brother bought a belt buckle that spelled "bitch" and a marx brothers pin. his girlfriend bought a people magazine from 1981 with lindsay wagner on the cover. we had dinner at the galaxy cafe, next to an ice cream store called lick, then went to a bar and played shuffleboard. the only thing on the jukebox was country music.

the only problem

the only problem with this band is their music keeping me up at night because i can't bear to stop it.

it's been a while since i've felt that way. it's welcome.

christmas eve

the plan was to have tumbleweeds (ice cream + kahlua + creme de cacao) and a giant dessert party, and watch old home movies, which had just been unearthed after being hidden away in a box for 5 years.

but then aunt l and cousin e got sick. and w and s's arrival drew ever later. a glass was dropped. a dish wouldn't reheat.

well, topper was watched in the meantime. an old black and white movie - a banker has his world turned upside down by two ghosts, one of whom he runs away with for a while.

that was my favorite part of the evening, a strange ghost/love/redemption story. and the tumbleweeds.

in the wild wood

by edward burne-jones and william morris, from the well at the world's end, 1896.

december

the whole month of december is like christmas. everything goes dark and cold. it's beautiful.

an evening hour

i'm on the 11th version of the plot for the ghost of the weed garden. it's getting there, slowly. this song came on when i was working on it tonight, and it was fitting. the ghost is in a very desolate place - nothing will grow there, the fields are dead, the well is tainted, and no one lives there anymore.