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What Do I Want?

Sweet insomnia, I promise not to fight you on the weekends any longer. You have me, my love. You have me. I will choose my battles more wisely. I am yours to have and to hold.

I want to quietly sip coffee with Matthew Herbert’s This Time Each Day gently pushing the background and write. I want to write and write and write. I want to play outdoors with my son. Then, I want to go home and paint. I want to illustrate. I want to make music. I want this to be my weekend.

In the week I want to run a shop. I want to sell people records and books and comics and art. I want to host evening open mics and poetry readings. I want authors to come and do signings or talks. I want to give local bands a place to sell their music and merch. I want to do this thing right in the heart of downtown Rutland City. It needs it. But I fear it cannot support it. I fear the dream will fold under the weight of a fell economy and suffering local culture. Still, I would put my all into it. I would work myself to the bone and beyond for this dream. If I had the start up funding, I would find the space tomorrow and begin. I’ve wanted this more than almost anything for as long as I can recall.

That’s all I want. I don’t need the world. I just want my little quiet corner to love life from.

uh huh

   I am sitting in my living room, unlit Christmas tree beside me, with a raspberry smoothie and voice-killing sore throat, listening to :wumpscut: while reading about the life and death of Mr. Christopher Hitchens.

“The four most over-rated things in life are champagne, lobster, anal sex and picnics.”