not much to do with anything

an introspective relaxed day with Rob at the farmhouse

i drive to Allyn's tiny post office, hang out for an entire goddamn hour chit-chatting with big David who works there and this bulk mailer jewelery hawking middle-aged W.A.S.P. who beats me to the counter with a hundred plus envelopes. Ahhh, my life in the postal offices of Washington State. What a strange thing to do regularly all over the place. Whenever I take road trips now I end up in the post office at some point to either ship books or pick up flat rate envelopes. Sometimes when I'm bored I catch my mind calculating postage and brainstorming ways to milk the system. I'm such a weirdo.

we lounge around reading comics for six hours
barbeque hamburgers, chicken, an onion
salad, rice, wine
a feast fit for folks like us
on such a day

talk is intermittant but heavy
grad school for Rob
children and the book empire for me
loosely planning the distant future

it makes me lonely already to think of my friend and business partner leaving
i don't want it to be real but i want him to chase his dreams
things will change: back to work at the bookstore a bit I'd imagine, some childcare to allow that, the bookstore itself will change, having assimilated Rob's persona since I became a father and stepped off stage. We shall see... stoked on the prospect of quarterly alcoholic book-scouting trips to the bay area though! Stoked on Rob getting his masters in literature, becoming a teacher and getting even more intelligent, argumentative and full of himself.

I just hope he comes back. God, my mind is on fire and all I want to do is stop thinking. Odd sometimes, how someone else's energies can feed (and feed on) your own. We are rolling stones, we are hills and we are moss.

back to the comic books.