I rode in the sunshine all the way up the hill and at the top, found myself in fog, condensing on my gooseflesh arms. The ocean was hidden behind a silver wall - somewhere down there was the airport and the peninsula that I know is full of houses, but not today.
Contrary to the date, the day I'm talking about it Saturday 6 Feb. January slinked past unnoticed in fur pyjama's.
I pick up my friend's truck and drive back down the hill, insulated from the chill. Out from under the fog it is 9am and already 25 degrees. Morning heat that can't break the fog, humidity sweats from your brow.
I'm on my way home to move my girlfriends stuff to her new place.
It's all over so fast, the packing, the moving and to-ing and fro-ing. We're done by 1pm, and all that's left to do is the hardest bit - leaving her with her belongings, the last box to be unpacked.
Now it's so hot all you want to do is lie in the shade of a giant rock with the scales of your lizard belly pressed into the sand.
We hug for the last time, we kiss, cry and say goodbye - it's so simple and so hard - and I leave.
Last night was weird, in my flat, just me and a cat and a dog, and it's like she's on holiday. Things are quiet - even when the television or the radio is on. Living alone makes you talk less - witty remarks don't seem quite so witty when they just float on the breeze, berating the latest political gaffe, well, you're just yelling at the television.
As for all your friends, it's like social leprosy. At least at first - they look at you like you're actually bleeding right in front of them, and they'll catch it and go home and their lover's will suddenly find them repulsive.
----
sophie, you are the sweetest batgirl ever. Thank you for your comments, your caring, you brought me such a wonderful smile. Best Suicide Girl ever.
double -plus good. deserves two pirates
Contrary to the date, the day I'm talking about it Saturday 6 Feb. January slinked past unnoticed in fur pyjama's.
I pick up my friend's truck and drive back down the hill, insulated from the chill. Out from under the fog it is 9am and already 25 degrees. Morning heat that can't break the fog, humidity sweats from your brow.
I'm on my way home to move my girlfriends stuff to her new place.
It's all over so fast, the packing, the moving and to-ing and fro-ing. We're done by 1pm, and all that's left to do is the hardest bit - leaving her with her belongings, the last box to be unpacked.
Now it's so hot all you want to do is lie in the shade of a giant rock with the scales of your lizard belly pressed into the sand.
We hug for the last time, we kiss, cry and say goodbye - it's so simple and so hard - and I leave.
Last night was weird, in my flat, just me and a cat and a dog, and it's like she's on holiday. Things are quiet - even when the television or the radio is on. Living alone makes you talk less - witty remarks don't seem quite so witty when they just float on the breeze, berating the latest political gaffe, well, you're just yelling at the television.
As for all your friends, it's like social leprosy. At least at first - they look at you like you're actually bleeding right in front of them, and they'll catch it and go home and their lover's will suddenly find them repulsive.
----
sophie, you are the sweetest batgirl ever. Thank you for your comments, your caring, you brought me such a wonderful smile. Best Suicide Girl ever.
double -plus good. deserves two pirates