Landscape escape

I've moved only next door, but my life became swept up in a cyclone of amnesia-inducing experiments and lots of vodka drank on a brown corderoy couch and chased with cranberry juice. Clothing litters my bedroom floor (confetti), my cat drapes himself on the cool linoleum of the kitchen and misses his friend. I am still frozen. There are no stories in my veins, no thoughts that raise my hackles. Willow is rooted in an uncomfortable bed of stagnant soil. Or maybe willow is rooted too comfortable in the rich soil of Burlington, and the lack of challenge is fuzzing art into sleep. Tomorrow I will try my hardest to go outside and take some pictures before work. The sun and the solitude are both necessary, as is solitude at night. Tonight I'll shun the world and soak in a bath, listen carefully to the Tom Waites album "Alice" that was a gift from a friend. Maybe the darkness will lift and my blood will stop clotting and sticking underneath my skin.