rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

At a Loss

Moon halfway across the sky, and the songbirds about to wake. Little more than a month remains of spring, which leaves me feeling a bit displaced. This odd year is almost half gone. At the moment, I feel like grasping it by its midsection and shaking it into some semblance of normality. Well.

As Juno continues to withhold LJ notifications from my inbox, I shall spend some time this afternoon crafting an irate e-mail to them. I've been pondering just how irate it ought to be. Since this is merely the first letter (see how pessimistic I am -- I'm assuming one will be insufficient), perhaps I should be merely irked. Save the righteous indignation for some later missive. Then on to fuming outrage. Yes, that would probably be best.

Again, as I continue to be at a loss for my traditional word jewelery, I post another picture from last month. This one is merely a hillside with a bunch of trees on it. Soon, most likely, it will be covered by a house. Many vacant lots in the area are currently being graded in preparation for new construction. The empty hills are rapidly vanishing, so it is appropriate that I memorialize one here.

Rested on a drying hill

Big hill, tiny clouds


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