eighty.eight.

i've been feeling a little vulnerable lately.
or maybe bottled or maybe solitary.
or maybe lonely.
or maybe
hopeful.
or maybe
not.

[i'm saying it again.] i love the people who come into the coffee shop.
some of them are so quick to share stories.
you know?
they just desire this connection with someone, they just want to tell someone their story.
most often it's something sad.
but even those sad things are sweet, in a strange way.
you know?
a man came in who works at the hospital and told us about how a 15 year old girl and her 16 year old boyfriend tried to deliver their baby at home. the baby had complications and when the medics arrived they couldn't revive it.
Bill, a frequent customer, came in and ordered his tea and told us he has lymphoma. he just started treatments.
A woman came in and signed a forget-me-not for her best friend, Billy, who was just admitted to a nursing home and is in the more serious stages of Alzheimer's.
These three stories came in within hours of each other, yesterday morning. it's so interesting how people long for other people to know and seek to care about them. i wish i could explain this more, because it doesn't seem all that interesting when i write it out, but in that moment it really just stops me.
you know?

later on yesterday, i locked my keys in my car and [foolishly] called the cops. in the process of trying to open my doors he broke two locks [the two front doors], and left his slim jim sticking into the window of my back right window. he couldn't get it out, and he never got the doors unlocked. he left me standing in the rain & waiting for my mother to come with the extra keys. the back left door was originally broken. so now, in order to drive, i have to climb in the back right door and over to the drivers seat.
thank you, police officer.
it's all ok, though. my car still drives. gets me from point A to point B.

this morning i had some Enchanted Forest sweet almond tea with some steamed soymilk while listening to She & Him. What an excellent time.
I like Rachael Yamagata.
And the poem "Dover Beach."
I like the loveliness of the song "Unplayed Piano"

I've decided.
I'm going to stick with vulnerable.
& that's that.
[with a little bit hopeful.
always.always.hopeful.]