You remind me of my jeep and a sixties sex kitten.

 woke up the day after the presidential election to countless text messages of despondency including one from Nate asking what the hell happened. We were both lost and heartbroken and decided to commiserate over a bottle of Green Spot he had kickin around the shop. So we day drank through the morning until the early afternoon talking all about our new and inescapable reality while music and white noise from his steampunk stereo filled the background.   

Nate's name isn't even really Nate. That's Le Chat's passive agressive nickname for him but for various reasons, I've decided to allow it and partake. Last night, Nate and I went to the one spot downtown that we both could agree on. We parked ourselves on the back couch and guessed the names of all the Brians and Gertrudes that visited the seating area across our table. He told me about the days of a distant past when his conduct was more unruly than his wonderfully careless hair, and he offered me some fascinating insight to the lewd truth of male programming. Also, according to the bullshit line I enjoyed receiving with my stella and grilled cheese, I'm the spitting image of the dream lady he would have designed for himself six years ago, but here's the thing. You can either keep your cake or eat it, and I'm just not the kind of cake you eat while you keep the cake you have. Nahmean? 

The constant flow of incoming traffic from the woodwork is equal parts soothing and maddening. Sixes, sevens and check mark deficient prospects are in abundance, but the freedom is refreshingly sweet, kind of like having a gourmet dessert before an all you can eat buffet.  

I'm just far too busy to deal with dramatics. My album has been begging to escape my grasp for too long, and I've put an insane amount of time and sweat into other ventures that have been very needy but also very promising. I've done happiness projects, sock drawer overhauls, meditation marathons and social media vacations all of which are very good things for a heart on the mend, and the good news is, I think I'm okay. Actually, I know I am. x

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