The beach was glorious, my heart leaped as the surfers caught wave after wave, the water was warm instead of the northern California foot-numbing shock. I bobbed in the waves and shouldered the loving undertow. Salt scrubbed me clean. Moomin and I built sandcastles. On the drive I wrote poetry in my lap. The sun shone in over the mountains and under the rainstorm. Rook got to see his oldest friend, who is getting a halfway decent chance with his movie showing in a nationwide film festival. And my mom wrote me nice email afterwards, as I look remarkably sane compared to my aunt, and she even said my remark about being a gay atheist (to a persistent Mormon) was hilarious.
Last night after the long drive up I took a scalding bath & then drove up to the city to Zond-7. We stayed up far too late, but still woke up in time for him to catch his plane. Now I'm pining a bit, and exhausted. I've been writing a ton of poetry. My notebooks are happy. I'm walking well. I blogged at length over here about poety things, with less swearing than I would have here.
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