i am missing the dogs
The dogs today. I have been looking at photos of friends’ dogs. That makes me think about dogs. Sometimes the apartment is all clean and neat and feels… just sterile. In spite of the plants and in spite of me and in spite of energy I put into this place it feels sometimes like there is an emptiness to it. And then I miss the sound of a dog sighing, the sound of paws, the feel of hugging a warm and furry dog.
By the way I am writing again. Like, you know, real writing, as in writing a movie. I stopped writing when Jones died. Stopped writing cold. My agent is still crying into his coffee and hating me for that but I could never say, Hey, I would like to be writing, but I cannot, too much of what I love has died. I just made up excuses and lies and kept not writing. But the dogs are why.