I write blogs in my head all the time. Great blogs. Filled with pathos and drama and carefree wit. I write them in traffic, in the bath, just before I fall asleep. Problem is, I don’t remember them. Or I don’t have the time to nail them down into pixels on the screen. So they fade, like breath on a window.
My 20 year school reunion. Exploring BDSM. The building work on my house. The question of my diminishing grandmothers. The joy of having a minion. Notes on the art of slow. A rant about my family. A soft ode to mist. And maybe another about the smell of oranges.
Riffs on fragments on themes on life. I don’t know whether to be delighted with the fullness, or frustrated that I can’t find the still gaps to capture something of now. I’m going with the former.
In the meantime. I miss this. And you.