Day Six: Puff’n Corn Plague Rages On

I write to you from the same place, the same position my body has seen lately– prostrate,  bed, cool sheets, ceiling fan. It is my only respite from the summer illness which, as fellow sickling Jon Knepp mentioned previously today, is the worst manner of illness (in the scope of illnesses that are deal-with-able, of course) because outside the world is BEAUTIFUL.

Seriously, have you seen the outside? I catch it in glimpses– mostly out the window this week, as light fades tremendously through the trees and over quiet rooftops, all the green of the grass turned red or golden. However, thanks to the one who is bearded, I have recently had the pleasure of reclining in a hammock under the big hemlock tree in the backyard of this cat house, and I have whiled away many pleasant hours on the front porch, making words and hearing words and letting music go through my brain, watching the cars roll by.

But Huntingdon is just so painfully lovely and that gurl is always showing off. The light seeps into the alleys and all the ivy and backdoors and garage windows gleam in the early evening fiberglass river smell air with the train rushing past. “It lives and breathes for me,” I said to a dear one this week, and I meant it with all of the feelings in my squashiest of souls. I want to ooze into its corners and cement there and the people will walk on me and it will be glorious.

In the meantime, before I become a goopile, I will at least have the love of those I know and those I do not. For instance, I offer you this goodnight image, offered some time ago from Hurricane Ben’s friend Illona. She sent him an email entitled “for your friend with the cat blog” and Ben forwarded to to me, stating, “She means you!”.

I meant it then and I mean it now– “I love this, and you.” Let that extend to all you beautifuls.

Goodnight, and SORRY IF I OWE YOU AN EMAIL/LETTER/NOTE/KISS/WHATEVER. I will make good on these soon, as my lungs heal.




About bearicaquinn

Smallish, smushy in the sad parts, certainly destined for cat-lady-dom. Enjoys boats, bikes, black coffee, pug faces, sourdough bread, the morning when you have slept long enough, beards, mountainsides, art, rooftops, etc. Will continue to live in things that are interestingly shaped. So octopus.
This entry was posted in Charming Anecdote and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s