Nothing Magical

No, there is nothing magical here tonight. Or there, for that matter. Maybe somewhere. Back to the routine. Wanting to spend the nights writing until sleep consumes every bit of energy and consciousness within. Wanting to let go of the world and just write and breathe and remember myself. Wanting. Instead, I am just getting back from another night of cards that mixed silly distraction with grumbling undertones because I am not stimulated enough on any level to be satisfied and sometimes my dissatisfaction shows because I do not like playing the superficial games of distraction and pretending that is enough all the time. I spent the day taking Helen's mom to the eye doctor and then treated myself to my favorite Mediterranean gyro, eating it at home in the heat and cramped space. Maybe that reminded me even more of where I am in life today (still adjusting to returning home from the escape to Austin). I enjoy the card games most of the time. I depend on my friends a lot these days for food and shelter. I appreciate them more than I can show. Still, there is a longing deep inside I can't always forget and when I remember, I can't always hide. Nothing magical. Just missing me. In case it matters.

Maybe I am just remembering the Late September Dogs a bit early this year.