10
We’re reviewing cuts, but I’m a thousand miles away. Someplace where the kitchen looks like a pumpkin and my mother’s more present than hers. In my head, Aimee Mann is playing non stop and regardless of the tumbleweed in the parking lot, it’s always Fall - just because she says so. Micam’s in a blue bedroom and it looks like Sesame Street threw up Elmo everywhere, and as much as I’ve not yet been there, I just know it smells like a cross between Gap Dream, fake dusty topiaries and sour soy formula (because you just can’t get the sour out even when it’s fresh).
As much as we all wanted them to be here, instead - I knew that I had to be the responsible one and keep her from signing that lease agreement when it was pushed over to her. South Bend, last month - and it was all about to start again, and all I had to do was to keep my mouth shut. But I mean, after all - no one want wants to see us be the cause of her father’s coronary. He’s the one who’s always been more supportive of this whole thing. I only wonder if they’d be here instead if I’d been there to prevent the fear from getting to her as much - but instead, I was too busy in Myst-land trying to throw a production together that may never actually be seen. I wonder if she knows how sorry I am for that.
It’s late, we just talked and I looked over at Paul earlier and wondered if I should tell him that I’ll be leaving just as soon as this is finished, because I can’t take my family being away anymore and I can’t stop my life another second when only for a dream.
The test keys look good. I don’t look forward to sound. And since I know I’m totally welcome, I’ll be sleeping in Texas tonight even if I’m only here. Micam’s bed-time CareBear puppet is still on the post of my bed, reminding me of where I come from.
12:50 am
