fireworks and placing blame

working a 15-hour day is hard.

what do bottle rockets actually do, anyway? i know you're not supposed to hold them in your hand when you light them, at least...

my parents are at the beach for the week. i have the house to myself, and i jump at the sound of my own voice. my thoughts are louder. i'm thinking takoma park tomorrow. maybe looking at vintage clothes and drinking a good strong latté will kick start my weekend.

i am in a rut, and am solely responsible. today, micromanaging myself while smothering myself in colorful nonlocal raw vegetables and non-bottled water, i realized that. i also read janet frame's scented gardens for the blind during my brief stint at the fireworks stand off richie highway in glen burnie (we were there for the big storm - no tornado, but it thundered and hailed). she totally threw me for a loop in the last 4 pages. wicked, that one!