Holly knows she shouldn't keep checking, but it's so hard not to.
Holly thinks her ass looks pretty good in jeans these days but goddamn this fucking cellulite.
Holly is prone to getting lost in the lyrics in new and different ways.
Holly's cat agrees that she is a fucking saint, but they both realize it's a joke.
Holly is mustering everything she has to not take one for the team on this one.
Holly is getting older, and therefore knows a little more about knowing nothing at all.
Holly needs to make time to write.
Holly can't focus, so please lower your expectations for the foreseeable future.
Holly wishes.
Holly keeps thinking about that Gauguin painting of Jacob wrestling with the angel. Is it Gauguin or Cezanne?
Holly checked wikipedia. It's Gauguin. Somehow she forgot about all the Mennonite women in the forground. Are they Mennonite?
Holly googled "Jacob wrestling the angel Gauguin". They are Breton women.
Holly wants to run and run and run but sooner or later her hip will give out, so she should probably go to work.
Holly is tired of being her own planetary system at work. A planetary system without sunlight because she doesn't rank high enough for an office with an exterior window.
Holly wonders why letting go of something painful always hurts more than the pain itself?
Holly can't help feeling a twinge of satisfaction about skipping two meals today even though she knows everything that is wrong with this.
Holly is vamping like crazy behind closed teeth. Mental jazz hands. Sleight of mind.
Holly is a salamander.
Holly needs more of you in her life. You, reading this. Yes, you.
Holly could have done more to help that dog this morning.
4 comments:
At the risk of sounding presumptuous:
Holly needs to be kinder to herself.
A little presumptuous. Holly is learning to welcome change, even when it shows up unexpectedly wearing a hideous suit and stinking of week-old garbage.
Sounds like my cat.
A Perfect response!
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