120 - have you been a mouse

coming to you from the village tonight, beautiful people, exhausted as always. we had another party last night, a mid-moon meeting between the hours of three and five a.m. the meeting consisted of nunu yelling at a variety of pitches and me languishing on the living room floor next to her. today she has discovered a new expression, where she squints her face, curls her nose, flares her nostrils and huffs in disapproval. apparently that is also my disapproving face.

there is a mouse in my room. here i was relieved to be sleeping in my own bed in my old room and as the lord would have it the space is being occupied by a scurrying blob of fur and now i’m afraid to put my feet anywhere on the ground. i know, beautiful reader, i know it’s just a little mouse, it’s more afraid of me than i am of it but how do you know that? how can you be so sure? have you been a mouse? have you been me? can you objectively measure our relative levels of fear of one another? this is what i get for calling nunu fara. all day i’ve been playing saying there’s a fara in the house in cute reference to nunu, and now there’s a real fara in my room. i really should stop making jokes that i’m not cut out for, the universe is a trickster after all.

it has been many days now that i haven’t been able to sit down and write to you of my ideas. it has also been many days that i haven’t had ideas, or haven’t had the time to dive into any idea because as soon as i’m about to take the plunge into my own mind something pulls me away—nunu, mom, a phone call, a friend, a dinner, nunu, an auntie. i haven’t read a good book since the brothers karamazov which i left half-finished in sydney on the assumption that i would pick something from my library here at home to enjoy when i had the time but now there’s a furry scurrier downstairs where the library is and i’m too scared to go get myself a book. there are some here in the living room library but my favorites are downstairs. i sound like such a brat, don’t i? i am such a brat sometimes.

anyway, beautiful reader, this time next week i’ll be back in sydney with all the alone time in the world to think and research and read and write, and i’ll be looking back at these days wondering why i didn’t let myself relax and just have fun before returning to that tiny apartment in the middle of no where with no friends around wondering if i’m really alive.

until tomorrow <3