I'm thinking this would be better with a sandwich. Egg? Cheese? Vegemite? These are my choices. I already ate the last of Grizelda's salami when she was on a wine tour. I ate it greedily, on toast, letting the grease run down my fingers. I was hungover and in the house alone but now she's back. I confessed to eating the salami but failed to buy anything new to put on a sandwich.
I have a new pile of zines, all but one written by my zine hero Vanessa Berry. The odd zine is by Maddy Phelan. It is tiny, sealed in an envelope covered in stamps. It will be a shame to break it open.
My new pile of zines is high, disordered and slippery. I carried them home in my 70's Goldenman briefcase. The briefcase lived in my mother's garage forever without anybody using it until it moved into my cupboard. The inside is an uncomfortable red.
I have shuffled the zines into chronological order and placed them in piles in my customary sitting position on the bed, facing the pillows and above them the window and the street. I feel like the whole operation would be better with a sandwich and a cup of tea. I will blow my nose, put on a cardigan and walk the length of the hall to the kitchen.