Day for Night (Via Orestiada)

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Things the stock photo guy never imagined he’d be promoting when he took this photo: my bullshit life.  Ha-ha, tee-hee!

Odd, odd, odd day.

I woke up this morning feeling ripped out of the land of Nod by my shoulders and birthed back into reality with not so much as a how do you do.   The dream I left was extra-weird, with me insisting a kitten-centric railroad calendar (think Chessie the Railroad Kitten, only with real, modern day kitties! omg!) would we highly saleable, to no one’s agreement.  Apparently, I dream of kitties and fascists who debate religion and philosophy.  I clung to my alarm, minute by minute, until I absolutely had to get up.  I felt hungover, sour, exhausted and all of my plans to get up early and workout (by which I mean walk about a bit or get on my bike and pedal) felt cotton candy in a quick moving stream.  Just gone.

Then, as happens so much lately, as soon as we hit the road for work, there’s a call and shit to be handled and in this case, the shit was ton of boxes that had to be loaded into cars from last month’s event.  Things had to be done today or else sort of situation.  So, we hauled boxes into our cars for half an hour before I returned to my post as chief of holding the carpet down while attempting to file and do whatever the heck else it is I do with myself.

It was not, however, so bad.  It was not, as I presupposed, the end.  It was, as per usual, more of the same wacky same.   There was no reason or purpose in going to go eat my way out of the emotions I was feeling.  There was no cosmic imperative to cake myself to numbness. I could just eat a bit, write it down, and know there was more later.   I want to walk closer to the things I’m dreaming of, let the ripple of confusion run through me, tilt all the little filaments and cilia a new direction.  At the moment, it’s in that sweet spot, where we’re in a partnership, the eating and the thinking about eating and…the me.  Nobody’s getting too far ahead of anyone else.  Nobody’s demanding the stage.  We just are supporting what one another wants to do which is mainly to eat for pleasure, to eat thoughtfully,  and to be fed and live.

I hope we can carry on like this.  I really do.

Dinner was at Tokyo Joe’s.  Now I am so loaded with rice and vegetables that even though I have room for a little dessert, on ye olde food diary – I’m pretty sure I don’t want it.  We’ll see.  Isn’t it nice to just…see?

What else, my lads and lassies?  What is worth spinning from flax to cloth?

The rest of the night is devoted to building more story bones, caring about mules, reading about writing, putting myself on the bike regardless of the clock, and stretching the muscles where the stupid lives and grows like crystals.

Someday, I will learn to stop liking lists.  And on that day, I shall die.

 

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