we were born before the wind

and magnificently we will float into the mystic (happy birthday van morrison!)

the heat has returned but I have my heart set on fall, so I'm drinking pumpkin beer and can barely contain my excitement thinking about leaf piles and feet under mounds of blankets on freezing nights and cumin everywhere, on everything.

(and moon dances, yes)

how many nights have I spent like this - exhausted by deadline, wondering what I could have done better, what turn of phrase could have been more beautiful, if I forgot to call someone, if everything will all come crashing down on me tomorrow. but somehow, everything doesn't fall apart. somehow, i have managed to trick everyone into thinking i am normal, drinking orange juice and star gazing and running over the Brooklyn Bridge like everyone else.

but tonight, i retreat into books and writing and letters and craigslist to search for land in montana or argentina or morocco.