My phone died during dreamtime = Gretchen Cello was dressed, out the door, & sitting at her desk less than sixty minutes after falling out of bed and tripping over both the puppies this morning.
One of these days I’ll invest in a proper alarm clock…
When days start like this, there’s kind of no getting out of the, “Wait, is this really happening?” zone.
I purchased a trashy bottle of $5 red on the way home with thoughts like, “Being broke is awesome” – “Damn I got ready quick this morning” – and “I should really polish up some work and like, send it to someone… it has been a year and all.”
With heavy feet and feeling ick I shuffled home on a grey autumn day in Melbourne.
In the rare instances that I have face-to-face conversations with anyone about my work and Poetry: Volume 1 arises, the scene tends to turn into an uncomfortable, “How can I get your book?!” “I’ve got one you can have.” “I’ll pay you!” “No… really… I’ve got one…”
Bartering rules. My luke warm day heated to gushing red heartbeats while I said with rosy cheeks over the fence, “You didn’t have to do that…” and received a glowing, “Thank you,” in return.
I love the days that bring me back to what it’s all actually about.