I just don’t even know where to start.
(It’s the fourth of July, my first in this little beach town. A year ago I bought an ice cream cone and lay flat in the middle of a baseball field in Santa Rosa, and there were no fireworks, but I did see six satellites. Right now there are fireworks going off in every direction, and my street is thick with smoke. Worked a closing shift, which amounted to drinking champagne out of coffee mugs and reading in the corner, and ducking outside occasionally to catch a glimpse of fireworks. Am about to venture upstairs to make chocolate chip cookies and read for awhile. Lately I have been feeling like my whole life is being tossed into the air by the handful, which is alternately exhilarating and terrifying. I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know, and that’s maybe okay. For the moment.)