cygnoir.net

cygnoir.net

something else

I woke up at eight o’clock to the sound of my father’s voice, slightly higher than usual, a surefire indication that something was wrong. He told me that my great-uncle Herb died. I don’t remember much about Uncle Herb, but I remember that whenever I would go to his house as a little girl he would hug me so hard my ribs hurt, and he would make me laugh. I hung up the phone and whispered, Goodbye, Uncle Herb. You always made me feel loved. Thank you.

Then I fiddled with my website a bit, unable to figure out what to do with myself. Now my webcam page displays the last four tracks I’ve listened to in iTunes. It doesn’t relate to Uncle Herb’s passing at all, and maybe that’s why I did it, although I am renowned for my symbolism and this isn’t symbolic at all. Just … something else to do.

I will try for more sleep. The dream I was in the middle of involved Stephanie playing the french horn, since this week I had just told Evan about her in the context of music. I wonder if Uncle Herb loved the french horn – if he dreamed about it, like I do.

Current mood: Current music:

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.

∞