October 30th, 2018

new start, old life

I am here in my new house, after 3 years of turmoil of trying to move, of saving up, of worrying about landlords and everything horrible. We found a house to rent-- the top floor of a house. Warm and full of light-- pets are happy here-- street is so quiet it does not even feel like city.

I am between jobs again, have been resting for the past few weeks, sleeping late, waking to blue and yellow light. I look around and think, this is so beautiful, I should write it down, and then some other thing happens, and the day ends, and I have not.

No fiction either, though I can feel it pressing at me. If I were to put fiction up here, just as a place to save it, I mean the kind I used to do, would anyone like it? Would anyone out there still want to read it? LJ seems much diminished, but I too have been part of the shrinkage.