Hot coffee and new books tonight. Plenty of blank paper and a simple pen, too. ♦
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Though life never includes the word “drunk” in relation to me and alcohol, drunk on existence, on another person, on the future to be? Oh my, yes!
Most often, when writing, it’s late night/early morning, I’m half out of my mind, built up in a frenzy- overthought and overwrought- in trying to bring some assemblance to the abundance of thought and feeling plaguing my mind and filling my heart. A rambling mess then tumbles out on to the paper before me, giving me a little peace and a much needed release in purging it all from my soul.
Come morning, I look back to what I’ve written, have recorded tangibly, and am a bit sheepish, almost embarrassed, that I’ve created such nonsense.
I then edit.
Hopefully, to bring it all a little dignity.
Make it presentable to post for the public.
All the while, knowing full well that had I not written “drunk”, I’d not have done my experience, my world, justice.
Wow. New eyes. How I do love them!
Seeing something ring true in another for the first time.
And acting on it.
One of the little joys in life is walking to my car each day where I see the cool blue-green of the swimming pool just a stone’s throw away. Its color, the ripple along the surface, never fail to produce a smile, if only inwardly, as I head out to the day that awaits. As of late, I’ve grown increasingly perturbed with the pool rules that cause the gates to be locked far too early in the evening. For, night swimming is surely one of the best ways to clear one’s mind, to find clarity on such matters needing clarifying. I miss it. Several years ago, my mom lived in a place where the pool was open until 11 pm. Out there, floating along, my eyes would adjust to the dark and the night sky seemingly sprang to life as more and more stars came into focus. With my ears submerged, the calm of the muffled world above- that of distant cars passing by, the occasional frog croaking and the lapping of water up against the tile walls- seeped into the corners of my mind, quieting the stresses of the week. Lying there on the surface, the whole world would slow allowing me to catch up. Answers to concerns seemed to float up from the depths like fish for the catching and I’d be left marveling at the synergy to be found all around.
One evening, a friend called up asking if I’d like to come over and join her family for some fish stew. Fish stew? Um, ew. I then said as much to which she laughed and embellished on the offer. “Fish stew” was actually halibut chowder expertly prepared by her husband. The best!
One of the best feelings ever … I so love when someone comes up to hug me from behind or to put their hand(s) over my eyes. Having no idea who it is for a brief moment, it just feels warm, like love.
While creating paper butterflies with Sam, my 4-year-old little friend, I managed to miss the paper by a smidge with the scissors and instead gouged the tip of my index finger. Blood began to spill out and with Sam’s mom being a nurse, she’s especially keen on fixing “boo-boos,” as she calls them (Sam, not her mom). Upstairs we went to fetch a bandage, a Disney Princess bandage. Sam proceeded to unwrap the wrapping and in pulling the tabs off the adhesive, she mangled the bandage a bit. Nevertheless, she took great care in placing it upon my finger, a look of relief replacing her fretted brow only after she saw that I was properly attended to and was again smiling. That mangled bandage right there, that’s love.
Standing in the shower, the water began to rain down, covering my head. I looked down as it divided into many a little rivulet streaming down my skin. At my shoulders, the addition of the color red mingled in. My heart quickened, anxiety rose, a feeling of panic threatened to attack. Looking down, my feet were encircled in a pool of bright red. Red droplets splayed out along the shower curtain, there’s red all over, red everywhere. I was simply dying my hair a deep burgundy. Who woulda known the process to rinse it all out would cause a mild blood bath slasher-flick style?
To be known inside and out. Words can’t describe the gratitude felt in the recent realization that I possess something longed for, for years. People in my life who’ve seen my foolishness and mistakes, past spitefulness, failings and shortcomings, and still somehow manage to find and see good in me, to love, support and continually root for me time after time. It’s not one of the little joys in life. It’s a big one. ♦
The insomnia is back. This isn’t a bad thing, just an odd thing that leaves me wide awake until daybreak. I’m awake just enough to be wired, fully conscience of the fact that I’m WIDE AWAKE, unable to sleep, but not so awake that I’m of a mind to be productive in any way. Whatsoever. Instead, hours pass by, often quickly, thank goodness, in which I float through existence in a surreal-like state doing nothing much else other than thinking, contemplating, philosophizing. My brain won’t shut off … must count sheep … 13 sheepies …
So happy to have the temperature drop. Several weekends ago, I couldn’t remove enough clothing, drink enough water, sit still enough, take enough cold showers. Hot, sticky. I would have slept in the bathtub, had I not had “one can drown in three inches of water,” running through my head. Bean told me about a dude who lobbed a fan at her in desperation when she politely told him at the register that it was against store policy to sell him the display model, and that, yes, she did know they were out of stock, along with every other store in a fifty mile radius … 12 sheepies …
Alias Season V will be available soon. Utterly ludicruous, totally outlandish series with every character in possession of at least nine lives. And I love it! Watched all the back seasons via Netflix during this past year’s Christmas gift wrapping. The BEST cameos EVER! Christian Slater. Ethan Hawke. Quentin Tarantino. Isabella Rosellini. More! Haven’t been this excited to see the outcome of an on-screen romance since the last time I got caught up in a television series: X-Files. Yep, back-to-back episodes late Sunday nights kept me company while working on assignments for class. My complete lack of interest in the show blossomed into a post-series obsession quickly turning to undying loyalty in the watch for any sign of requited love to be found between Mulder and Scully (almost typed Mully and Sculder). Was rewarded with a long-awaited, most perfect declaration of love stated through one fantasmic kiss near series end. Le sigh. Ok, that’s my abbreviated plug for shows revolving around agents. Don’t get me started on Keifer Sutherland AKA Jack Bauer in 24 … 11 sheepies …
My chicken popped! Everyone should have a pint-sized rubber chicken in their car. Just be sure that when the sun rises in all it’s warmth and super-hot glory, that the liquid-filled, squishy yolk substance lying within your rubber chicken, doesn’t ooze down the dash as mine did … 9 sheepies …
Cliff is outta the hospital, hallelujah and yahoo! Been out for several weeks and getting better every moment. A friend from school, and a good painting buddy, he apparently got really sick, passed out on the front lawn, and woke up days later in the hospital fresh from a coma. Remains unexplained. Here’s to you … 8 sheepies …
Went to the Street of Dreams recently. A row of gorgeous, high-priced homes decked out to the nines with the latest in design and amenities and for the price of admission, one can peruse every nook and cranny in the search for their own decorating ideas. This is one of my favorite little bits … 7 sheepies …
Would like a ballroom dancing partner come autumn with cooler weather and the taking up of new activites, but alas, they apparently only reside in Florida nowadays … 6 sheepies …
I’m crazy about edamame. The little green buggers. Darn McDonald’s Asian salad … 5 sheepies …
I wanna go to a monster truck rally! Wanna buy an obnoxious over-sized foam finger and mightily wave it to and fro in the air screaming my lungs out for mondo vehicles … CRUSH THE COMPETITION! Yeahhhhh!! Woooooo-hooooo!!! Jump those doubledecker school busses! YeeeeeeHaaaah. It could be fun … 4 sheepies …
“Thawed For Your Convenience”. These are the words that grace the orange juice container I purchased at Jack In the Box the other day. The words imply a favor. That they’ve gone and actually liquified a former solid so that I may quench my thirst immediately as opposed to waiting until the rock melts. Simply amazing … 3 sheepies …
She’s left friends.
That pointy thing up there scares me. I sometimes imagine it falling, landing sharply on my face somewhere. It is only paper. But hey, it’s folded sharply and positioned precariously. Sure, it’s a pretty paper lamp at the second angle, but lying directly underneath, squarely on my pillow, insta-weapon.
… 1 sheepie … ♦