Today it's pissing in a dribble, and I didn't leave the house again. Maybe, after dark, a walk. I got an invitation to write a story in the round this morning. Five sentences at a time with a handful of other writers. It's something at least.
The idea of reaching out to others, though, seems more and more distant to me with each passing day. I don't want to get on Zoom and socialize remotely and exaggerate having a good time.
I'd like to wrestle in a bed for a while, maybe, with someone and then part company, but that's it.
I'd like to have my children in the same room laughing together and letting me see that, but that's it. I'd like to say, how was your weekend? to my coworkers while earning a paycheck, but that's it.
I'd like to read your cursive handwriting again and feel every word like a kiss or a nail, but that's it.
The idea of reaching out to others, though, seems more and more distant to me with each passing day. I don't want to get on Zoom and socialize remotely and exaggerate having a good time.
I'd like to wrestle in a bed for a while, maybe, with someone and then part company, but that's it.
I'd like to have my children in the same room laughing together and letting me see that, but that's it. I'd like to say, how was your weekend? to my coworkers while earning a paycheck, but that's it.
I'd like to read your cursive handwriting again and feel every word like a kiss or a nail, but that's it.
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