So my little ol' self got hunted down via my vegan food-blog and asked by an editor of Northern Ohio Live to write up a little review of vegan-friendly restaurants in the Cleveland area for them--not only will they publish it, but they're paying me out the ass for 750 little words *and* comping my food as well. And *they* were the ones who sought *me* out. Apparently my crass orange-feces-loving mouth didn't horrify them as it does so many others, and now I have this sweet little unexpected gig. Needless to say, I was flitting about yesterday like Mr. Casablancas had just made sweet sweet sweaty mad 90-degree beneath-the-box-fan stank-ass love to me.

So I don't know why it is after I get brilliantly exciting news that I always get inexplicably mellow.

Yesterday, it was because I got to thinking of all the people leaving. People that I want to capture, and shrink down with a shrinking-gun, and squish in my pocket and keep so that they can't go anywhere. At all. Ever.

It's going to be quiet with so many people gone.

I've been thinking of how silly and pointless desire is--how it is a catch-22 or some silly riddle about what has three legs, and that it's surprising that each time it is had, the space-time continuum doesn't rip open its maw and swallow its own tail.

I've been thinking of how I'm always thinking of things to say and never saying them. Always. Creating quiet little scenarios in my head and allowing them to play out unfettered by the mechanisms of real-life which, with the tiniest move, render the same scenario null and void, my king in checkmate. But in my head, there's no one to take him down. He rules supremely. I did speak some of these things once recently, and it rattled through the next few days like a wobbling movie reel that has just caught fire, burning every stupid moment up with its stupidity. But at least I said it. I need to do this more often.

The nights have been lovely though. Last week I just laid on the table in my kitchen, the fleuroscent light turned off for the first time in forever, and I realized how strangely peaceful it is in my kitchen--there's good vibes in there, perhaps from all the plants I've got that are working to make their way up from the soil, perhaps from all the time I've spent dicing and cutting and stirring and putting love into things that I feed others whenever I can.

Yesterday, out on my back roof at 10:30pm, it was the same. It is amazing that in a city things can be so quiet sometimes, that even the noise weaves itself into some sort of quiet as well. The wind was blowing just slightly, my neighbors moved around quietly in their houses finishing their daily routines, my cats perched on either end of the dirty roof while I sat there, my legs wrapped in a blanket, and just listened. To nothing.

What all this means I don't know.

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