Day One.

Sometimes you have to hide from the sun.

I met with an acquaintance this afternoon after five or so years of radio silence.  Our distance was justified by the actual distance between us.  That, and our limited interactions five years before.  She's a lovely woman, and I hope to know her better.  This isn't about her.  It's about the impressive qualities of her friends.

Now that I'm here, on a small island on the roundest edge of the world's butt cheek, checking the box beside "non-wage earning labour force" (an apt description on government forms for which the bureaucracy should be commended), I keep pretty tight lips about my true intentions for my future.  I don't tempt fate.  What if someone found out I was trying to finish a book and someone else said, "oh, I have a friend doing the same, and she's a lawyer, and does yoga, and blogs, and helps the needy and has an agent and worked for world peace and probably will build the first moon colony after curing AIDS."  What if someone added, "did I mention that she also works part-time and opened a restaurant and has sex everyday and cooks without recipes and composts all her waste?"  Yeah, I don't want to hear that.

But, today, I did.  So, fuck it, I thought.  Time to blog.  At least then I can silently affirm, "yes, well, I'm writing a book AND I have a blog.  I just prefer that no one read or see or hear about any of it."  Isn't it better that way?

(I've decided that confessional postings merit a picture.  You deserve at least as much.  Probably more.)