It’s getting dark. The cicadas are chirping and small bugs gathering around me as the motion sensitive light seems to flicker on and off depending on my movement. 

so so so much is changing. Nothing huge really just some small things that right now feel like this is s day I start my next chspter. Into what I’m not really sure. 

there are lots of bizarre, yet humorous, yet possibly menscing, and most definitely ludicrous all spinning together in the aftermath of the blood moon eclipse. 

rhe cicadas sound is getting louder. Or maybe it’s not just cicadas but squirrels getting ready for their mating ritual.  

And then *plop* a fat drop of rain hits my arm, my kiln clicks off, I move inside to my new futon and the deluge begins.  

My life has been getting so deliciously ridiculously surreal. Or abreal. My favorite new made up word. All of this feels crazy. But I cannot tell you how so freaking good it feels to be just me in my space. I don’t care if other renters come in. That’s cool. But it’s my space. And I can relax. Take off my bra. And take up space without having to feel guilty.

And the fantastic thing is to me all of this reads as the next right thing. And the next logical move that will not cause harm to any.  

I wonder if I am hearing the frog in the most or a bird In the walls. Who knows. Either or both or any way It’s rad. 


Christina Osheim