To Write On

So many things to write on.

The nadir of the roly polys, who have seemed to reach the end of their, mating cycle and have moved on to greener pastures or other yards. I shall miss them.

The new girls moving in across the street, both the same age as our boys, and their newly fledged friendship. I'm learning to let go slowly, allowing the boys to just....go see friends, ride down the street, play hard with the tousled haired ladies who are giving the boys a run for their money.

The beauty of backstage during a scripted show. Props, patterns, laughing, dashing around. The fear of fucking up, and the joy of making it work, knocking it out of the park. I've missed it, and I had no idea how much.

Queerbomb. Oh my goodness, the beauty, the outlaws, the sparkles. I was proud to be there, to be queer, to be an ally, to be dancing in the heat and love and warmth of hundreds of daring spirits.

The lack of ability, currently, to write in depth. I should write about how I just can't seem to write. In depth. Probably because I am too busy and too focused on all the beauty and nostalgia and sexiness that is going on.

Well, at least I wrote on that.

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