Where do these moments of needing to write come from?

And I nearly had nothing to write on.

I'm alone in the box office churning through a shift during which everything has broken down. And now half a gin and a break in the onslaught brings the drop. I feel outside everyone's loop. I feel the loss of a LIST of things that used to populate my thoughts upon awakening, and in the last hours of the day. It was the LIST of things I used to look forward to.

There are other things, now, to anticipate, but one love can never replace another. It only shifts focus, like the left eye to the right - emotional parallax. When my left eye is closed, my right eye, the weaker, sees fuzzy images of waking up late, listening to white noise, Chaucer and sewing. The left eye herself, strong on her own, wants me to be like she is. She sees ahead and clear the things I could have, could be, could do. But when my eyes work together, two wrongs do not make a right and the past and the future do not make a present and instead now is just as out of focus and strange as ever.

Astigmatism, we can't work together.

It's that one point of light shifting between two others, one tenth of an arcsecond makes ten parsecs makes the distance between absolute magnitude and us, my heart and my head. And it keeps getting wider every day as I go through my LIST.

I'm such a bad judge of character.