post modern

Love vent: I received a package today from a former, the first love. I worry about her, I do miss her, but I'm all wrong for her.

Work vent: A simple thanks would do, Mr. Attorney 1. And Mr. Attorney 2, don't pull the power game with me. I don't even work for your department. Believe me, I will get it done as I always have.

Again, one of those days at work. I don't write about it much mostely becuase I spend so much time in it, I'd rather escape a little bit.

I did sets of jumping rope today in between diffferent sets of leg stuff and it was intense. That's really all I got.

And As I walk down East West Highway, the moon is a sliver of a finger nail. The lights blur on sequential patterns as I trod down the hill to home. It's a brisk night. It feels clean, like only a winter night can feel. My cheeks are rosy and healthy and mind diverts from tomorrow and from yesterday and brings me to the sequential lights of right now. It is very beautiful. My mind wanders from now to the symphony of foot steps on sidewalks and passing cars and to my first apple and my last good dinner out. I don't think about tomorrow, but I think about next year, then ten years and about where I'll be, who I will be with and why I'm not with that person right now. I think about shattered bottles, eye drops and hair. But I'm on my way home and that is okay.