cel saying “but yeah, i know how blessed i am” while absently squeezing a leaf of the hobbit jade to see if it needed watering riding past the park. was i hearing a swingset or geese? the timer in the kitchen just switched on the grow light behind me, and i knew it because a small new reflection appeared on the inside of my left glasses lens at the next table, a woman wearing a big flower-print rayon shirt pokes at the veins standing out on the side of the bald head of the man sitting next to her (i’m at lisas pizza, whose cozy houselike dining room is the setting of a thing i wrote a long time ago that got folded into my first nanowrimo attempt. it was about three young women sitting down to a spaghetti dinner and having their own raucous raunchy orgy. i love(d) them and i love people, including and perhaps especially the ugly and ineffectual, and i love how we survive, regenerate, keep trying, keep coming back, perhaps especially when we don’t know why, or what all this is for)