i couldn’t title this

and here we are on the flip flop! hi friends. it’s 2018! this little space on the internet is turning five this year! life is weird.

anyway, today i got an idea for a maybe novel. that would be a bit funny, i think – me, writing a novel. i don’t have any of it to share with you, probably because it doesn’t and very well may never exist, but i do have dear june to share with you: prose i wrote for an obnoxiously good demo made by some of my favourite lads. here’s some of dear june, which really only makes good sense if you listen to the songs with it – this part goes with autumn – which probably makes it a shoddy piece of writing. i don’t have the energy to fight the part of me that was once proud of it. anyway. prose with music okay go!


Dear June,

I’ve found that people get warmer as the weather gets colder. Maybe it comes from a selfish evolutionary impulse to stay alive and with others, or maybe the falling of the leaves reminds us all of how fragile everything really is. Maybe closeness is a response to understanding.

In the fall we did things like consider futures where neither of us existed and I realized that I didn’t have her the same way she had me. We ran from the fear licking at our underbellies signaling the end, and loved it. I watched her do everything right and everything wrong, and anything at all, and loved it. It felt a bit like a funeral, really – understanding that what was, was really was coming to an end, and that we’d have to witness it. When we tumbled we blamed it on the weather, and dressed like we were waiting on the bliss of the summer that started it all to return.

She became nervous for the first time in all my knowing her that season, and I became overwhelmed. I didn’t know that you could float on an ocean of unspoken love for so long before you start to drown, or even that drowning could be bad. I faltered when I wanted to be plain with her and she withdrew, but I could never blame her. Not once; not ever.

When the last of the leaves hit the ground, I started to consider my reasoning. I knew she’d go, and I knew I wouldn’t survive it, but I continually found myself waiting for her, despite what she’d do. I never expected her to change, though. There’s little room for improvement when perfection is the standard one starts at.

With love,
Autumn


there it goes! there it be!

if you want to read the whole thing, it’s over here. talk to me about it on twitter if ya like! okay. i gotta zoom. there’s a bomb cyclone that’s preventing me from going outside and i need to be sulky about it somewhere.

love and light,
shalom xo

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