I just sent this text: “There are FOOTPRINTS on my FRIDGE”
wrong wrong wrong. I kindof don’t want to clean them off, though. Memories of a happy, spontaneous evening. a bunch of us went to see a worthy but really depressing Greek tragedy, then to a pub, then I brought an Emily home with me and showed her Jon’s tower and my battlements.*
In other equally weird news, I just had a really good singing lesson. We spent forty minutes doing one vocal exercise and it actually worked, though everything I had to remember to do (read: everything I have been doing wrong for years) ended up like a game of “I went to the store and bought…”. With muscle memory it will get easier. nevertheless WHAT, I do not have notes that high.
*any relation to subtexts living or dead is entirely coincidental.