Honest. 

This is an unedited blog post written from a bar at 8:44pm on a Sunday.

I am not drunk, but I am happy.

Life is too short and strange to be otherwise.

My life is an endless chain of goodness and potholes. Each bump, a surprise and an offer. Each bruised buttcheek is a gift.

I have a zit between my eyebrows, and no one notices. I am beautiful beyond compare and no one cares. Everything is good its own time. Often, the best is yet to come while the worst seems omnipresent. I have no wisdom for you. I hope I’ve never pretended to.

For four hours today, I created theatre in a room of giving and goofy humans. I am lucky. It put me in mind of the class that made me. I miss them. I am sorry, for what I did and who I was or pretended to me. I am grateful to those who love me still. I understand those who cannot.

A tall girl in an orange skirt carries a kick drum on stage tonight. This is an image I won’t forget.

The man I love has this sloped, arrogant nose. His lips are cherry red and his Cupid bow deep. His eyes are bright and green,  but his shoulders are sloped and careful. He moves as though nothing could touch him, he breathes like it already has. These are images I won’t soon forget.

The woman I almost married has the kindest voice, and the softest constellation of miles on her back. I can’t look back, but I can thank her.

There is no reason to deny yourself your past. There is every reason to know that you are not that. Your past is your past but you are nothing but this moment. And the next. And the next.

This bar is full of flannels. Of dreads and shawls and smiles. I share a smile with a woman in a scarf. She leans against a Wright baring pole and does not know me.

I wait for. Othing. I will not live a life in waiting. 

There is only now. And the plans we make. And the way they are wrecked.

I love you, my sweet.

I miss you.

I hope beyond hope that I will see you soon, that you are safe, and that Madagascar will be preserved by the myriad of ecologists working to save it.

And I pray. For rain, for mercy, for you. Contact the ground to know that you are held I love you.

Now go live. 

Honest.

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