Roll over, foreground!

~kavehorvanya

Hour until midnight with stray granola itching my mouth. The cello solo at the end of <i>Decades, Castle Romeo</i> by Slauson Malone 1 is bringing me to tears, it's so beautiful. How are you? Bartender, how are you? I'm here because it was payday today, and I'm procrastinating, a little eager and additionally desperate, all puckish and bashful slinging between my accomplishments, my crushes, my conference rooms, my tests, my gallery volunteer shifts I spend sitting exhausted because that's what galleries do. Is your job any good? I don't drink. I don't know if I can ever understand you, bartender, where you're coming from. But between the two us there'll always be the night-time state the Greek mystery cults hunted for, long ago.

Sorry. Just read a blog hosted on github talking about Eleventy and free-hosting and it reminded me of this place. This hole in the wall. I wanna make something. Similar. Little half-finished zines of my table, code-but-mostly-writing projects sobbing into my hip. I'm inspired by all the wrong things, right now. Right now it's invisible light, secret colours, though I'd prefer it to be geography. Really what I mean is that I'm nonsensical, as long as this sleepless-sober state lasts. Don't expect anything from this, unless diary entries are appealing to you. You may see me again.