i woke up and the house is too quiet. whenever the house is too quiet, i think there's a murderer in it somewhere. i turn all the corners carefully. usually dru is posted like a sphinx somewhere with his eye on my door waiting for me to wake up. he's reclaimed my third floor study for the winter, since it's too cold up there and i refuse to lug the space heater up all those steps. i do miss the view of the susquehanna river and the cityscape that lights up so pretty in winter when the trees allow me a view of our little twinkling capital.
the trees blow and the lights shake and the eyes mistakenly think they're blurry. maybe it's your eyelashes.
i don't know what to do with this day. this night. i finished reading a book in the bathtub this morning. it applied a poultice to the world in a way that was false and pleasant. as most successful novels do.
i suppose i should just start with sugar and go from there. i think half of my alcoholism was my craving for sugar. i wish i had a thrift store or a dollar store within walking distance. instead i have a ridiculously overpriced pharmacy/store, bars, a liquor store, and an assortment of weirdly formed little restaurants and specialty shops that mostly close by the time i wake up (the latter).
i could go look at trees and houses, i suppose, but i would need my camera to do that and not look like some crazy derelict--to have a raison d'etre to be on the streets of this small town.
i really should call Steelton a village. it was a town when the steel mill was so active, so far back in the last century. now that the mill has shrunk down to nothing and most of its buildings lie in rusty desuetude, this feels much more like a village again.
it was once the Village of Baldwin.
and, like daffyd, i feel like the "only gay in the village."
when Lee's at work as now.
i'm sure at least one of my cats will shortly do something vile and disgusting and that should give me busy work.
or i'll start wondering about looking this or that up and my houseparent Google will take over.
i am a strange child being raised by search engines.
a strange child whose hair is gray.
now i'm going to go eat a miniature mounds bar and the world will suddenly seem brighter.
sugar makes the world brighter.
i think sugar makes the world brighter than sex.
sugar is like a star you put inside your body. like sex when you're younger. like art.
oh the different forms of combustion. COLLECT THEM ALL.
i must be truly old.
sing "at last" by etta or someone here.
to fall asleep and wake up two hundred years older.
the addict's usual fate.
all addicts are rip van winkle.