It's a sin to kill a mockingbird

Whatever you wish to keep you better grab it fast. Yonder stands your orphan with his gun, crying like a fire in the sun.

My bottom lip is all swollen and sore. I must have bitten it last night when I was sleeping. I dreamt about going to some place where the men and women had to sit circular around separate tables, and I seemed to be the only one reeling at the ridiculousness of it. Yesterday afternoon I cooked gluten free pizza in preparation for Louis to come over for dinner. I never make any effort to cook proper entire meals, but this time I even made salad and grilled asparagus and poured wine that was actually cold and out of the fridge (a novelty) into proper wine glasses made of glass. I watched

To Kill a Mockingbird

while I was waiting for my guest to arrive. We finished watching it together (it's a long movie) and you know that damn story is so sad, I can't believe how tragic it is and how Atticus can remain so stoic, so incredibly gallant and gracious and beautiful... the saddest bit is when he has to tell the family of Tom that Tom's DEAD, and they don't know, and it's so sad and then Bob Ewell spits in his face and you just die.

Anyway sorry for the silence around here I guess. I've been really busy doing god knows what, mostly lazing around in bed until 2pm after staying up till 5am talking, eating, and hanging out with my friends. I've had some fun lately. I'm on holidays. The light in my room is flickering manically like it would if I was in some dodgy insane asylum that may or may not be haunted with the ghosts of past tenants, and I do find it mildly disturbing. I'm finding comfort however in imagining I'm again at the corner of Lexington and 96th Street, just about to descend the staircase to the steaming subway. I'm doing it again, romanticizing something mundane, generally gritty and mildly unpleasant just because it's so far removed from here and this right now.