Le vent nous portera

This morning I came home after sleeping in the poet's office, by myself. We had a pretty amazing day together yesterday and then with his family a bit, and inevitably got quite drunk in the evening. I didn't have the keys to my grandmother's, so he put me to bed on the office sofa above his theater. Then he exhaustedly went home. I wandered around their place for a little while, pretty luxuriously just in my bra and underwear, turning the lights on and off and looking into each room. Then I had myself a little cry and went to bed.

It was cool and gray on my way home, and I wrote him an email when I got in, assuring him that I'd put the keys in their proper place and thanking him for everything. It was easy to be casual and happy in it, lots of jokes and plus signs and exclamation marks. But then I found myself wishing him a good year, and signing my name, and it was all I could do keep myself from writing

Ps. I love you.

I Know There's an Answer

Hello! I've decided to start writing my blog again, but I wanted to have a fresh start. A lot has happened since I posted in December, and I just felt like turning the page a bit. I suppose I might be doing that in as many aspects of my life as possible right now, and starting a new website seemed a simple and sensible way to begin.

I am going to try and live my life! Holy hell! I just went to Russia, discovered Pet Sounds about half an hour ago (yes, I am indeed musically retarded), and am beginning to think about a new, three-part play. (I might actually try and post it here, in occasional bits and pieces, just to get myself going a bit?) And I have taken to finding my joys in the clouds.

Walking home, A. and I stopped across the canal from a church on Sadovaya. Then all of a sudden I looked up and

everything is going to be alright.