It Might As Well Be Spring

  

It might as well be Spring.  Equal light and dark today.  The old Carnal Equinox.  Winter's breathed its final gasp.  

Spring broke grey here.  Clouds and wind.  Ruined my photo desires for the day.  I will stay home and do practical things, I guess.  Clean the fridge.  Develop that b&w film I shot.  Maybe put together some more pages of the book.  Yoga.  Grocery shopping.  

Last night, I had dinner with c.c.  Virtually, anyway.  He sent me a text of his sushi dinner with his lovely bride.  I texted back my own. 

It was not, however, as though I ate alone. 

Such is my life.  After dinner, I had a cheroot and some whiskey, then Q called to berate me, to explain to me why his life is superior to mine and why I am alone.  

I considered an Asian Massage Parlor up the street, but I was afraid I might be shot--either by a hidden camera or a religious nut.  

And so the night ended with an episode of reality t.v. 

And that was my Winter Celebration.  

And this is my Spring.  

"I feel so gay, in a melancholy way. . . " (link).  

All that is left are endless hours of t.v. and. . . .