I would be all right. That was/the hardest decision I've ever made

I set some fruit flies free today. carried my trash bin out to empty it into the dumpster and it left a wafting trail of them in the stairwell.

in the eight-minute break in the middle of my Tuesday/Thursday anthro class, Riley lay down on his back in the aisle between the desks and closed his eyes. I overheard from behind me:

"I was anesthetized, and I came out of it and I was screaming, I was having a panic attack! in front of the other patients, and the doctor told me I had to stop, because I was scaring them!"

and someone else: a something and "evolving to corporate tragedy" and some things more.

speaking of fruit—speaking of fruit perfect whole and unbothered by them—there are two small pears on my windowsill, pears which have never been stickered. and when I am lonely, I feel less so when I look at them. plainness and loveliness are almost companions. they almost are.

do you know how at times every direction seems to be sending the same message to you? this is happening to me now. they are all saying, it is time to make some more community for yourself; you can't live outside of an us, you need them to see God and you will need them to survive this winter. it this urgency is not very American, but I think it's true. I believe still in solitude very much, but I also believe we overestimate the individual.

in-between theology readings, I fell asleep feeling like a small animal, at the end of my bed, the flat part, a nest of a blanket. out of sight of the mirror, the mirror which can't turn its face. not quite out of sight of the sun. the noise of the packaging tape rips fluttering in the breeze.

actually, I suppose it's relative whether I am a small animal or not.

the part they didn't tell you about riding off into the sunset—how beautiful the light would be falling on your handlebars...