Which means Mint is on its green tippy toes, seeing just past the horizon of my budgetary staredown. We travelled too much in April. We paid for too many dinners. I bought something ridiculous and admire it so. Gold Courchevel and so admirable. I think about what it means all the time. I think through every stitch. I wonder what everyone else thinks about it and me for carrying it. I think about the kind of pleasure a thing can possibly contain. It is not much. It’s pleasure is a kind of proof. Is a financial syllogism. If weather = the world, then money = bags. It carries carrying. It is a bundling thing. My bag metaphor costs alot. I lied to everyone.
The glow of what I want is getting more terrible, more bright.
We got sick in April. It’s all there in the transactions.