It becomes increasingly clear to me that Newport and The Decemberists belong together. But only when it is dark outside. It is an experience you are not likely to shake anytime soon.
We took CK out to pee, and you were looking for a worm to take back to your lizard. I ran away, escaping through an oddly formed gap in the fence. I walked past mini-mansions and it wasn't very cold and I felt like I was living in a different era. I paced that foreign street for the longest time; dim lights of the privileged spilling out from under doors as you shouted to come back please because you missed the way you had to lean in close to hear anything I ever said and besides, you couldn't find a worm anyway.
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3 comments:
you are honestly one of the best writers ever. :]
Aww, thank you. I just got a bunch of notifications from all the lovely comments you left.
Do I know you at all?
I was going to suggest this "Anonymous" was, in fact, the lovely Eliza, since she could've followed you here from my blog, and it'd be like her to read through an entire blog (and, probably, comment on it).
However, this "Anonymous" mentioned Xanga, and Ms. Eliza would not know of that.
So it is not here. I do not know who it is.
Odd.
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