Maybe I do use you as a journal. Or at least, I always think of something else I'd meant to tell you.
Like how tonight I remet a semi-pro wrestler who had never watched a UFC fight before. He sat in the purple lawn chair I brought and laughed when I noticed how much a man on tv looked like a fish. It wasn't a racial thing. Although living here has taught me that just because I don't consider race doesn't mean other people don't.
After he won, Brock Lesner used his mic time to plead with all nationalities to work together. Twitter thinks he was referring to Dallas.
It's so strange to me how cities are becoming events. San Bernadino. Orlando. Dallas. I wonder how long it'll be until they go back to being just places again.
I'd be scared just about anywhere at this point. Not because of guns or extremists. Just of new people. It worked out for me in this mildly dangerous city thanks to my partner and his friends and their kindness that is somehow strong here and not weak like when I tried to wield it elsewhere.
Anyway, I have to try to find out why my gray and white cat is suddenly afraid of the sound the treat box makes when I snap it open. No one should be afraid of the sound of food. Sun chips are pushing it with those bags tho, amirite?