too many dreams, actual cats, sunflowers without context

"I hate depictions of lighthouses!" I told Ming.

He looked hurt.

"I see I've affronted your sensibilities," I said.  "You know this about me."

"But they're so useful!" he said.

"Yeah, I like lighthouses!  I just hate depictions of them!  They're so bad, like Thomas Kinkade," I said.

Lighthouse visits, lighthouses shining light, foghorns, painters I knew, the pain of making art and having the world like Thomas Kinkade.  All that flooding me.

Shore feelings.  Beaches, Pt Conception, a long hike I took, carrying a bag of oranges picked from someone's front yard tree.  Getting scared as I climbed over a barbwire fence.  Ice plant, long sandy trails, how much my feet hurt the next day.

How we could have died.  The lighthouse was condemned for a reason.  I guess you're only young once.

Wow, I just read much of the Kinkade wikipedia article.  It's worse than I thought!  His four daughters were all named after painters and all had the middle named Christian, because Kinkade was such a devout Christian.  He liked heckling other artists and peeing on stuff to mark his territory.   And died of an alcohol-valium overdose.  And had a factory thing, going with his art.  Hmm.

Anyway, I also like cats but not depictions of cats.  Well, photos are ok.  But not cartoon stuff.  And I much prefer actual cats.

But some things, I might prefer depictions.  Like ladybugs.  Actual ladybugs are weird beings, and I don't know what they'll do.  Beetles are kind of like aliens, to me.  But depictions of ladybugs are just cute.

I feel weird, like I went on a very long journey and came home, a different person, totally disoriented, and not knowing what to do in this place that was my house.  Is it my sleep schedule?  Too many dreams?

Yeah, maybe this grief is a long journey.  I'm changing.

Solstice, then father's day.  Strange interpersonal bullshit, people resigning, people forming friendships I'm excluded from, other people loving me, and I don't know why.

Who are these strange people I'm closely allied with, and I don't even know where they were born, their favorite color, or what they like for dessert?  Some of them, I never saw a photo of.

One of my favorite penpals, I think they use they pronouns now.  I know they're not white, but I don't know what kind of not white they are.  I don't know their last name!  But we've been writing for years, and I have their phone number, which I can txt one day, if I find myself up in Washington state.  I'll take it.