my favorite book is at your house. will you read it?

the delightful aroma of my olive blossom candle makes me think of someone. sometimes i mean one thing and say another thing, but sometimes i say just the right thing. I'm not sure which i'm doing when i say "today is a wonderful day. " beautiful, human, real. every relationship needs quality time and i had some this morning with myself.

sleep with dreams that could have been real or could have been wishes. i wake up and read my magical book. it's so lovely and pretty and helps me feel more at ease. i go out and indulge myself to feel pretty. aching so much to get lost in our beautiful city. got a little lost. watch some regular people. a couple steals a kiss or two in Post Alley when they think no one is looking. or they don't care who sees. it's a good kiss. jealous a bit. they're giddy and i smile real big. i'm playing my soothing saddies playlist in my brain. feeling so many things. part of me wants to see the crowds, get bumped into, be seen. i don't go so far as to drop anything loud and embarrassing, or fall while crossing the street, but i want to be around strangers. so i push pass some people in the market to smell the disgusting fish. my heart explodes and jumps back 3 years all at once while i bite into a pain au chocolat.

how long can bulgar be in in the fridge before it turns into vulgar bulgar? how long can my heart be in the fridge before it becomes too old to use. can i forget how to use it? i hope its like riding a bike. how can i feel so lucky and unlucky at the same time? how can i feel so lovely and horrible at the same time? how can it be real and imaginary? this stream of consciousness makes sense to only a me. time is silly. i sometimes don't know if it exists. it cant, not at all times.

Today is a wonderful day, wonderful in the way that makes you laugh and cry.

When I remember something which I had,
but which is gone, and I must do without,
I sometimes wonder how I can be glad,
Even in cowslip-time, when hedges sprout;
It makes me sigh to think on it -- but yet
my days will not be better days, should I forget--Jean Bigelow (from my magic book)