I think that zombies surround me. It's not just pride and prejudice and zombies. It's also me and zombies.
While it may not be the brain that they crave, there are plenty of (undead?) people willing to take a bite of your sex or your mouth or your time, or your heart (especially your heart) just to cling there, until they are satisfied and you are emptied. Cleaned. Rinse. Repeat.
Maybe I mean vapires. Or ticks. The analogy is the same.
I met a Satanist today. Surely not my first, but the first to openly declare allegiance to the dark lord in my driveway. I told him that in order to be a Satanist, he must be a Christian. As to believe in one is to believe in the other. By default. Pick your side, but it's the same war. I told him that I'm not involved with that particular war.
He asked me if I would barter to file his divorce. Religious discussion over. I like that. Barter. Over. Succinct. Practical.
And I buried a dead child possum today for a friend. I know not why my assistance was needed, just that I buried it while others watched. We gave it a brick for a headstone and christened him stinky. He smelled of the sweet sickening of rotten flesh. Deeply inhale and simultaneously gag. He will not be missed. Sometimes, I assume, it's a relief to be committed to the worms.
I fell in love 100 times today.
I have had my heart broken 1000 times today.
I sat on Gay Street, I had champagne, I discussed books, I gardened, I spoke with friends, I ate delicious food, I cooked, I mothered, I wrote, I laughed.
So full. But the zombies still make me feel empty sometimes. A hateful mirage.