dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Saturday, May 27, 2006

blown and windy

I have issue 37 mostly done, half in envelopes even, none sent. I was doing all that while Erik read to me The Years, which has tons of characters, but I think I'm following it. Some of my envelopes I made are just beautiful from a calendar of aerial shots of earth.

On our walk this morning we saw two condoms in the gutter, on our street, different sides of the street, and much discussion of how they got there. Yuck!

We're listening to Innocence Mission's Glow, Erik is washing dishes. I'm healing from my two days of work. He's healing from five. It's a threeday weekend for him, which is a miracle. I thought they were Easter-Thanksgiving-Christmas-New Years only. Happy to be wrong.

I got the most surprising letter two days ago from a friend L I had not had a letter from in a year, very glad, and it's a beautful, articulate, heart-rending letter about her experiences with the disaster that made her stop writing. I will write back soon. And I got some zines in the mail today, the latest from Dan M as well as Beautiful Mess from Sarala in Canada, a trade.

At work I wrote a long letter in tiny handwriting to my dear R who is so patient with my endless chatter, and I hope she can read it.

Last night we went to Moroccan food, and it was really something, a six-course meal, delicious. I don't have the energy to write about it, but I'm very grateful the world has given this experience to me. The weekend's budget is blown, which is fine, because we like the book we're reading so much.

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