Life in Manageable Doses (audio)

I heard someone say in an interview they do not like birdsong, hungover or sober as fuck, it pisses her off. I watched a big brown truck run a red light and nearly cream a tiny red car. There was a guy at work who asked too much from me and we both knew it and I didn’t respond or perform as he was hoping I might anyway. Because: no more anyway. No more superfluous. Nothing extra, nothing more and nothing in addition. I heard a wise and strong woman with jet black hair say she goes easy on herself now. About everything including missing the gym and eating cupcakes whenever she wants. The only thing she has to do perfect in her day is not drink. I consider cutting bangs because that’s a thing we think about when we have changed who we are and don’t know how exactly to speak about it out loud. I choke on the words I wanted to string together and fasten around my neck like pearls or a rope or the beeping sound the machines in a hospital room make when they measure your vitals. The pulse and pace of a digital sickness, greenish blue and washing away like clouds of ammonia. You shouldn’t give away too much about yourself. You should tell it all, just let it out. All you have to do is feel it. All that has to happen is that you recognize the scent of the rain which is moving across the country which is blurring in the sky which is running down the sides of your face and the backs of your legs and is washing you clean. There is a peach glow of light underneath the mist behind the trees. I run my hands through my hair and remember the cigarette tucked inside his old cigar box. I remember the fireflies I used to catch in jars underneath the pines. I wish more people would tell the stories right in front of them. I wish they knew it was all right now.