Thirty-One: Weeks Forty & Forty-One
Days two hundred and seventy-four through two hundred and eighty-seven
Welcome back to Thirty-One, the project where I attempt to write something every day for a year. If you missed any previous issues, you can find them here.
Day Two Hundred and Seventy-Four (January 25th) Jazz murmurs softly beneath the rain pattering in through the portal of an open window Day Two Hundred and Seventy-Five (January 26th) Garage mannequin update: It was Dad who put the mannequin’s head on her body. I can’t believe I fooled myself into thinking my brother would offer such a kind gesture after he flat-out told me he was too lazy to put her head back on. Oh, well. She’s whole now. That’s what’s important. Day Two Hundred and Seventy-Six (January 27th) It’s incredible what we get used to, given enough exposure, like cat butts. The Dune popcorn bucket makes me more uncomfortable than my cat’s butthole a few inches from my face. That’s love, I guess. Day Two Hundred and Seventy-Seven (January 28th) Rest your eyes. Look at the faraway things and let them remove you from this place. Relax into the background. Become part of the scenery. Day Two Hundred and Seventy-Eight (January 29th) I keep my life in jars and vials. I tuck away the memories I want to revisit, setting them on shelves throughout my home. These bits of me twinkle in the candlelight, flames reflecting off the curved glass of my past. Day Two Hundred and Seventy-Nine (January 30th) There’s nothing in my head but a bunch of misfiring neurons. I’ll try again tomorrow. Day Two Hundred and Eighty (January 31st) Bureaucratic bullshit is at an all-time high. Day Two Hundred and Eighty-One (February 1st) There was no rain but plenty of clouds. In between two of them, I noticed a sliver of rainbow. It wasn’t fully formed, but it brought a smile to my face nonetheless. Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Two (February 2nd) I take shelter in past feelings, hiding away in comfort and ease. Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Three (February 3rd) I say this every time I open a new jar of peanut butter, but there are few things in life as satisfying as opening a new jar of peanut butter. The surface is so smooth I almost feel guilty breaking into it with a knife. It’s like the glassy surface of a lake on a windless day—a lake full of peanut buttery goodness. Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Four (February 4th) One of the few things in life that’s as satisfying as opening a fresh jar of peanut butter is successfully folding a fitted sheet. Thank you, Marie Kondo, for teaching me this elusive skill. I now have a perfectly folded rectangle and a full heart. Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Five (February 5th) Green creates green and all the life in between. Something more precious than gold comes from the common olivine. Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Six (February 6th) The sky was perfectly blue today. What more needs to be said? Day Two Hundred and Eighty-Seven (February 7th) Moon-flavored jazz brings a sultry shimmer to the light of day.
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