October 11, 2009

Everything with a battery has a battery charger you plug into the wall, and a tiny light that turns from yellow to green as the apparatus charges. In my room last night there were three of those, plus the ghostly green of the clock. They colored the white walls of the room, like a grove lit by fairly lights. One of those nights when I went to bed very early, exhausted in more than body.

Cantaria sang the opening of the first annual Blue Ridge Pride at King Park, an unexpectedly sweet enterprise. Sandra Parker was there. We chatted about Hiram, and about how she never contacts me when she is in down for fear of interrupting my bust schedule. I found that hilarious. Sat in a chair and read last night until I couldn’t hold the book, and it was still early.