SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Thursday, Jun. 28, 2007 @ 3:37 pm
First of Four



It's raining out. Strange now, rain; it hardly rains in Victoria. And it never lasts. It's easier to be cozy in the rain, inside, tucked away from the world.

What do I do all day? Jogging in the morning. Alongside the ocean, tour busses creeping past, the elms green, California poppies soft impossible orange. The smell of low tide. I feel too heavy to be here.

Buying us tickets to Wilco at the Malkin Bowl in August. On a week night. Ferries... love/hate. How can you say No to Jeff Tweedy under the stars? Heavy still, under these skies.

Driving to the barn. Riding Sandy alone in the outdoor arena, cantering between striped poles. Down the driveway and back, nervous, rattling diesel engine, skittering into the forest. Me coaxing her out, and Roy trying to help from his truck. My seat is good, very good, she can't dislodge me anymore. Heavy, anchored.

A long-legged orange cat, fancy and wild, jumps into my lap when I kneel to pet her. Lays into me. We only just met.

On the weekend, I spent time with girls. Two of which dislike me. Why? I don't understand women. I just play along, because this isn't about me. Dancing in a night club for the first time in years. Men approach me. It makes me feel powerful, until Daniel suggested I could have looked like an easy target. No makeup: she'll be easily flattered. I was. They're right. But I pushed them all away, so proving that they were wrong. I left feeling distant from the girls, falling heavily away from them into Daniel.

This weekend: the first wedding.



I was dead sober. She was not.



Roots | Shoots