My mood fluctuates. My belief in humanity fluctuates. My ability to spell fluctuates fluctuates. I wanna put an x in it, of course.
This is new growth on the palo verde tree we planted at the end of last year’s Sacred Peace Walk. I like the red.
We’re going to get some soil. I wanna plant a bunch of seeds.
I told Ming a long time ago, I enjoy getting a garden that was already made, seeing what’s there, adding to it and making it a new thing with a lot of the old. That’s what life feels like, to me.
He said a lot of people like to plan a garden and make the plan real, then move on. The creation is the part they like.
In my dreams, I find old gardens I made and forgot about. Usually they’re doing great and I’m happy to find them. Often they’re geometrical in ways I would never make in real life.
I was dreaming early this morning, a white guy was going to swim in a cold place. It wasn’t for fun–there was some other purpose, symbolic or to fulfil a weird need. To prove something?
He handed me something in a little paper dish, with a white plastic spoon. A bit of ice cream, maybe, lavender colored.
“Please be safe,” I told him. I was afraid he would die in the cold water. He tried to kiss me on the mouth, although I think he was gay, and I dodged it.
The whole dream had a feel of very dignified cosmopolitan. Another part with this white lady everybody liked. I resented her. But I could see why everyone liked her.