Blessed with Bile

I’m drinking too much again, writing all this to you. This morning was bile. Electric yellow. A color that doesn’t belong in nature, that especially should not come out of a living body. Tastes like gasoline. I huddled around the toilet, face close to the cool, thinking it’s not so bad. Thinking tomorrow I’ll be fine. Thinking that when I finish whatever this is—these e-mails, stories, drafts of our memories—maybe when I’m finished then it will mostly be over. Thinking that if you haven’t written back, you have to be dead. Thinking that if I keep writing…I don’t know. I’ll come back to life.
You would love the ice on the bay. The glaciers on the mountains during the sunrise are so fucking beautiful.