vos beaux mots

four things:
i am going to be a barista [this makes sense to me].
i have to take out my eyebrow ring [this makes me melancholy].
i can only be a barista if i take out my eyebrow ring.
i can't get it out!

wading through months of district lists and meeting minutes and the rabbit hole that is Tanzania & the Dar es Salaam port authority. and i LOVE it. is this whole DC thing actually going to work? i like the city. i like the people. but there just aren't enough cafes and thrift stores for my granola self. too much business, not enough hippie. maybe i just live in the wrong part of town. adams-morgan shows some promise, as does u-street. i want curving staircases and lion-footed bath tubs and a room full of canvas covered in oil paints. ethiopian + nepali + margherita pizza + basil + sangria + sushi. that's what i want. a haunt. i always do better when i have a haunt. maybe i should be a ghost - all the ethereal habits and none of the rattling chains.
speaking of chains
i threw them all away. gone. on the ground, rusting. even as i begin to configure a regular schedule, with an office and dress pants and all that business, i can DO anything i want, in the end. full use of my independent choice. and the choosing to do! oh, the places i'll go, and the things that i'll see. i feel like goddamn dr. suess.

grilled cheese with brie.
vos beaux mots d'Afrique.

i'm a new soul | in this very strange world | finding myself making | every possible mistake