My family is a strange bunch. I mean really. We're all strange.

In concentrated time frames and large numbers, it's truly intense, and I do fear the life and sanity of outsiders who enter into our ambit.

Right now, it's quiet house. Patrick has taken to his nightly ritual of big screen tv. marcus is editing a video. both cats are snoozing on my bed. for me it's tea and toast, how very (unpretentiously) british of me.

i just piled my toast plate onto my breakfast plate from this morning on my bed (don't judge me) (which has a habit of catching things in orbit in my room and temporarily homing them) and it disturbed the slumber of both cats. sorry, babies.

sometimes i forget to think about how stressful my day, week, moment is, and just watch people walk up and down my street in the thick, dark night. the cats breathing slowly- their bodies rising up and down. the cars, driving, directionless. bases pounding, windows fogged. the dark, hanging blanket of the sky, dappled with stars. the street lights casting eerie glows.