Tonight I'm packing my small bag and drinking hot water with lemon and honey. My body is currently 98% zinc. I'm sick, which cannot be, because on Sunday I will put on my navy silk minidress with the gold sequins and stand next to two dear friends as they say their forevers. Tomorrow, Montana.
I'm considering the practice of radical vulnerability, considering these earrings (isn't there a thing with bloggers where they say, wow, these earrings, and then the next post is like, oh my, what kind and generous person sent me these earrings I loved so much? at what point of blogger success does that happen?), considering the playlists I'm compiling for this wedding. It's very daunting, being charged with making people dance.
It may not have been the best time for me to have lifted someone I love out of my life, right in the middle of these weddings, when it honestly becomes somewhat necessary to have someone with whom you can drink a few whiskeys, someone who you can marvel at, someone who marvels at you. At some point, after all of this is done, I'll write a bit about what a horribly selfish person I've turned out to be, or these weddings have shown me to be, and how truly difficult it is to be purely happy for the people you love without any of your own jealousy and sadness and loneliness and anger seeping through. But not yet.
For now, I'll listen to this song, and think about how I hope to sway gently to it, against it, in a barn in the foothills of Montana, thinking of my friends, and the love I have for them, and thinking, as always, of you.
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