A Fuck About Anybody Else

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When the Heat Dies Down

Photo: Doug Vizthum. Used by permission.

I would like to write about food for our acquaintance again tonight, but I’m limp with exhaustion from making my own. It’s 10 p.m. and I’ve just socked away yogurt into the warming contraption and roasted brussel sprouts are cooling for tomorrow’s lunch. Yes, both of those would work within our structure. Nice of you to notice!

This sign currently adorns the front of the now-closed bar. At some point in the future, I imagine I will be able to talk about the feelings this sign inspired, but right now, I simply can’t. I’m afraid if I start, I won’t stop or I’ll remember how much anger I had or how much I miss that life or I’ll realize once I left there never was any going back. Yep, I can’t think about that now. I’ve got work to do and I’m through sleeping on the sidewalk.