Worst/best Day...

Today I took a Red Cross CPR class. I knew it was going to bring up a lot of shit, but I had no idea how much, how consistently and how specifically. I’ve been having a much harder time with my thoughts lately (as I just mentioned)–but today was like being the loser in a heavyweight boxing match.


Later, after a dinner of far too much homemade dal, Penn and I played and played, of which the following photo of us playing on my iPhone represented only the final portion. (The first portions of which included manly things like throwing soft projectiles at one another from across the living room, from whence we were expelled to Carissa and my bedroom, “Where there isn’t anything.”)

While we played, nothing else mattered. Not the looming work deadline. Not the crappy day that was. And after a few days of neglecting his often insessent needs for companionship, all I could think was “I hope this is what he remembers.”

Real legacy, there again. Being meaningful.


Now I’m once again listening to Paul Slaven’s record “Alphabet Girls”, which I have mentioned before and which I don’t listen to often enough, but when I do am struck with how such beauty can exist in this world and be so overlooked.

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