Thursday 15th (day 12)

The perfect day blessed by an early day donation to OPB and all I ask for is two grocery bags and a tree planted. I love OPB.
The screen doors are gone for the season and the dead flowers have all been put away. The ground is bare and simple, the fantasy of Sylvia Plath's poem Spinster and maybe I too can find peace in a winter which usually makes me blind by staring at things close up and ignoring the outside. 
The rest of the day goes easy on me. The weather is fair. The lead colored cat comes inside as I make the bed and we play the old game Snowball liked where I made the bed with her under it. This cat, my neighbors cat, Jasper, likes the game to and it's nice to have a cat to talk to once in awhile.
Lucas comes over as I sit outside, Kevin asleep inside. We discuss the lead cat and what it does and I try to explain it's ways a bit. Rich comes over and watchs as we chase it into a tree and then try to coax it down with the stem of a dead plant. Then we play Frisbee for a bit.
Suddenly it's dark and I'm at Townshend's where a lovely girl brings me mate and asks me about a comic have resting on the scrum, traveller work space. The Jolie Holland song I've had stuck in my head for weeks is playing as she tells me I should have a showing at the tea place. I believe her but I don't believe in myself.
Hours later I am at Camalli drinking a Widmer next to Sarah Viles and Tonia where three writers from Throwback Books including dear friend Jonathan are at the front holding their contributions to the literary world.
They read and it is satisfying. On the second beer I reach the feeling that has been eluding me and I feel real. What is my relationship with the present moment? I am content. Crosslegged with two braids.
I buy Chris' book and read Jonathan Treadway's hand (water or fire hand with a strong fate line and straight head and heart lines).
Driving to Nicci's house to watch the Office and then find myself home with Kevin wanting to smoke cloves.
So I do. Take the long way through downtown and into the park to Galveston where I get a La Cerveza de Pacifico Clara, Djarum blacks, and a blue lighter.
"My favorite color," cashier says.
Walk home writing poetry the whole way until I am home without even still working on my first clove. Lighting candles on the front porch I write in my journal until Kevin comes to discuss his prospects of going back to school and reading in next months Poetry Slam with Lia.
The air suddenly goes from cool to cold and we head inside.