Lavender like the little way you used to smile or nudge your face in the pillow and squish your face only to smile again with this boisterous laughter. I try to always reach to feel this way, lavender..but then I think my cheeks would blush too much and give me away.
You’ve given me many colors to work with and you’re the only one that gets orange. Personable, well-kempt, and always nostalgic. Orange, the color of then before it happens and everything 7 and 70s.
I haven’t been writing about you because I miss you. I look at all these wonderful things that writing has sprouted for me and I realize life even without leaving the house much looks very similar. And it’s mostly loneliness. Everyone’s off on their projects and this is my project. It was inevitable. I mean 700 posts and I got flats for what I’m trying to get at. I’m gonna make them into chicken wings flats, absolute winners.
But I think back to when I was on Jumpstreet (that movie is in all my recommendations omg) and there was this kid and his dream was odd because he wanted to become a Marine and then Dod and become ATF then DEA and only then could he have a Med Card to smoke weed. And roughly, this is the process. And he said something one day “you know the people I look up to that work undercover on Jumpstreet I kinda look up to. Like they are not bad peoples by any means..” and I was joking after many times of hearing this and finally said Med Cards are for Jump Street one day.
I suppose my Jump Street is the weird Jump Street because my legal age is my age 24, but all my memories go back to 56′.
I remember one time I went to a group therapy for people with age changes and it was in 98 and coming. I was tuning from 41 about to turn 42 and my age rested about 21 in vital statistics and my body was morphing and I was getting shorter
It affects your memory, but amnesia and a 3 year coma have a lot to do with what is remembered and what’s on relay bound to come up again.
I think of the day Mose came a few months ago up from Carolinas the part he’s from.
How can I say I don’t remember you even in your age and I in mine?
Then I think of Leonard Cohen “you in your generation, I in mine.”
And it all becomes pony daisies after that. Gonna cry if I let myself too. So I’ll tither away and write about something else. To refresh myself.
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