emo moose



This is my cousin Marie standing in front of her paintings at the opening of her group show this week. I like how she’s holding her handbag and her paintings are of bags. We didn’t plan it that way.

I am in study quarantine on a Friday night. Simon and our house guests have gone out and it’s just me and M Ward and a whole heap of paper.


My brother just pointed this out on Facebook. It’s times like these I marvel at genetics and the similarities of siblingness, because that’s exactly the kind of thing I pick up on and find amusing. All week, out of nowhere, my head has been making spoonerisms out of absolutely everything, for example. My head is just one big dumb word-scramble. But at least I know I am not alone. Somewhere in Boston there’s someone who’s at least as alphabetically addled as me. It’s reassuring to know there’s someone out there with similar afflictions.

The house guests are now coming home, thank god.

Yesterday I caught the wrong bus and ended up on the wrong side of town. I wondered vaguely if we were heading in the right direction but I was sort of caught up in what I was reading and didn’t really contemplate the wrongness of my destination until it was too late.

The cats keep hijacking my glasses of water. It’s not really something I feel comfortable sharing with them. It makes hydration tricky. For me, I mean. Convenient for them, though. The bath has become their new drinking fountain of choice, second only to my freshly filled glasses of water.

I think I might wander around and admire my new house now for a bit with M Ward until the entertainment shows up.


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