I sat riveted to my red couch. The acting was superb as was the chorus.
When I looked outdoors I saw a massive display of fireflies blinking on and off, on and off.
Meanwhile I was munching on surrogates for popcorn which gets caught beneath my teeth and on the roof of my mouf.
Triscuits shaped like isocoles triangles and Snyder's dipping sticks, which had "Eat me" wrin all over them.
Just came home from my early morning walk. Not a soul was about. Above ground, that is.
While watching the play, I discovered a tea on my shelf I'd forgotten about.
Apple Spice.
I drank it in my Harold Melvin and the Bluenotes cup, I mean my Meghan and Harry cup.
Sent a donation today for Antigone. $25.
Wish I could write a short story where the person has a destination, such as Sarasota Springs, Florida, and is really looking f/w to it, but then the plane begins to tumble from the sky.
Damn, says the person. I'm not ready to die.
That was one of the things Antigone mentioned.
And don't go naming your cat Antigone.
MY CAT ANTIGONE
Affectionate and with a blackness
seen only when the stars go to sleep and
darkness covers us all in golden robes.
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