The Localized Explosion of 1000 Small Harmonicas

And I swear to you, I saw the universe in my bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch that afternoon, and it was beautiful.

Cereal for dessert really isn’t a bad deal, all things considered.

I woke up this morning to find blood on my shirt. Only after seeing the dense stains of blood on my blankie did I realize that I had slept through a rather intense nosebleed. This, of course, is concerning, and I’m not sure if it is seasonal or if its my body trying to tell me to get my shit together. Maybe both. Regardless, I’m glad it made its way onto my blankie and not down my throat or up into my sinus cavity. Sorry for that picture. What I am really concerned about, however, is how I’m gonna get the stains out. See, my blankie and I have been through a lot, and it has seen blood before, just not in this kind of quantity. I can’t really ignore this one, is what I’m saying. You know how some athletes don’t wash their jersey or “special undergarment” in the name of good luck? I sort of have the same kind of relationship here with my blankie. I will end up washing it, because the texture of dried blood on fabric is kind of abrasive, but it is a sacrifice I’m not looking forward to making.

My plants are doing well. Only three have sprouted, and I’m not sure if the other ones are ever going to. I water them anyways, though. This led me to a realization about myself, and it furthers my conjecture that gardening is a philosophical endeavor:

I will water plants that will (in all likelihood) never grow. Some may call it wasting resources, but I call it caring. And sometimes caring takes its toll, but I’d rather spend my life caring and hurting than abandoning something that is trying to grow.

I’ve started to take notice of some plants around campus that have been nearly defeated by gravity, their top-heavy bulbs weighing them down into the dirt. I took it upon myself to help them out, so I got some sticks with “y’s” at the top to prop them up and give them another chance. Hurts me to see them so down. I hope I can help,,, but I do feel weird interrupting nature. What if that flower was meant to die, and I threw off a natural process? I sure hope not. My intentions are good, but I guess we shall see if they help.

ALSO: A HUGE congratulations to the RIT CUPSI Poetry Team for representing our school so well at the competition thus far! We are all super proud of y’all! Keep up the great work!

I have come to the realization that I am in orbit,,, Mentally. I am stuck in an orbit of sorts, and I can’t quite get out, but I’m not a huge fan of crash landing into myself. I don’t really know how else to describe it, but I feel stuck, in motion, and an orbit is a great way to articulate that feeling, I think. I’m always moving, but I’m stuck. Idk.

I’m pretty confused, in general.

I do know, however, that clouds in the night sky weave a lumpy, dark blue blanket. Of this much, I am certain.

It has been a whirlwind week, but I’m sailing in front of the gusts. I only hope that I don’t get lost at sea.


I hope that you are doing very v v v okay. I really do. I’m here if you need me.

2 thoughts on “The Localized Explosion of 1000 Small Harmonicas

  1. Sounds like the road of life is starting to smooth out for ya…I’m glad. Oh don’t worry, there will still be potholes to deal with and windy roads that slow your life down a bit, but welcome them as they come….soak that blankie in some cold water and laundry soap over nite then throw it in the washing machine…hopefully that will help!
    Happy Easter Gregory!

    Liked by 1 person

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