Kick Drum Heart

I just updated all of my writing from Mexico; I’d dragged a notebook down there with me and penned away during free time or down time. The one entry I never finished, ha.

Here’s a silly tidbit that I’d scribbled in a margin, from day two or three. I was probably laying in the fishnet-woven hammock on the verandah at the time:

“She wouldn’t give up her seat on the Underground Railroad” — talking about Rosa Parks. Some drunk gay guy

Cute, huh? I know I cracked up. And he said it in such an obviously queer tone of voice, it was hysterical. Nothing against gays or anything: it was just a quirky little detail to an outrageously inebriated comment.

Well, that’s all for tonight. 

There’s more I could write, about cousins, and lives and fear and confessions. But I won’t, because. Just because I don’t know if I’m ready to. But there we are, all of my thoughts from Cancun, just read below. Have a great night/evening/day/whatever time it is that whoever reads this, reads this.