I have two vertical blisters on my hand right now. They are from seperating coconut meat and husk recklessly with a stolen butter knife. It came off in little chunks. They were sweet and sort of crunchy. Ross told us to chop them up and soak them in warm water for a couple days to extract the flavor. I will pick cherries in a couple hours, I will paint edging trim a light pink.

There is too much to want sometimes. I wish everything could be reduced to one thing at a time. Tanya and I sat on the porch. I tried to take pictures of her smashing the coconut with the hammer. Instead I ended up with a short movie of her sniffing the broken fragments, tasting the aftermath, eyeing it for the right fissure to further smash with an industrious look on her face. I took a chunk in to Chris and explained how to eat it, he was hesitant and saved by a phone call. He was cranky, but we tried to be as good as possible.

The night erupted into a kind of ridiculous silly. Everything was funny for no particular reason and it carried along endlessly. We played scrabble and I kept score on the Etch-A-Sketch, answering requests for play by play scoring. We played with letters and words. We sometimes made up sentences to encapsulate words we played. Word play. I thought about my inside thoughts, and how it is hard to bridge the gap to outside ones. Most of the time they are a repetitious cyclic haphazard jumble. I like them that way, people are sensitive, sometimes hostile, to erratic changes in topic. It is hard to be candid with people, they often do not know how to handle it delicately enough. Around a few, it is easy though. Selena leaves soon and I will miss her. Not so much her absence as instead her being gone, the idea of it. Far away.