A certain sort of happy

Dear Zonk,

I’ve had a weird few weeks of oscillating from absolutely happy to desperately sad, and I’ve decided to believe that there is no reason to try and go into the why of these things. For now, at least, I’m just here to tell you about one of those happy times.

This is a picture of Dischordian playing my song.

(Picture from here)

My song.
That is, a song that I wrote that they heard that they thought was nice enough for them to consider playing at what was probably their last gig for a while. And it was awesome, and it sounded so much more like celebrating than when I play it.

This makes me the kind of happy that you can save up and use slowly over months. Someday I’ll have a proper recording, and you will hear it then.

Love always,

PS. This counts as one of the loveliest gifts I’ve ever been given. Thank you, Garreth.


Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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