There’s been much talk of war in the east.

At home, I wear black pants, black socks, black boots, a purple beanie, a green jacket, and sometimes a black shirt with a picture of a spaceship hovering over the red rocks amphitheater and tractor, beaming the crowds into the sky.

I drive to school and back again. I listen to FM radio stations. I’ve been knitting in class.

I go to class and wish I’d done the assigned reading. Actually, I wish that *any of us* had done the reading.

I’m closer to broke than I’ve ever been, so I don’t buy food from the convenience store on the corner – I go to a friend’s apartment over an art gallery on main street and snag a bowl of something cooked with lentils and white pepper. We talk about ideas we don’t understand (but would understand better if we’d done the reading.) We discuss ways to make money under the table. I tell him that he smokes too much.

I have excellent dinner at home and that’s what tides me over until the next time there’s food.

There’s an acidic tang in the air today. As I walk from one class to another, I break into a run, backpack full of books and all.

Gas prices are skyrocketing.

I think the best gift I can give to a world that feels shaken right now is to stay solid and strong and unfuckwithable and genuinely kind.