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Why am I here I ask? Why am I back? something to do with this scene. Something to do with live versus canned. I can ecrire and scribe all the daze long in my own handwriting (run don't walk these journals are worth the $70 and this year is blue. notebook brand: cavallini & co San Francisco - made in Italy)
flowers rain
honey pot
lovers reign
sunny spot... you come to me with solutions... ducked out with some pain. you wear me out
I'll always digress. to me, it's not the same as to you perhaps.... yet writing in my private journal or something that would never be turned in to teacher is something far far different than 'a walk-on part in the war.' it's the rubicon you always talk about. the half pregnant. 0 or 1 (nothing in between).
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MLK Day
For some reason, probably because it was so internally fucking intense, her most vivid MLK day - the first cut is the deepest - is at 20 or 21 aged on Ashley St in Athens sitting in her hand me down jeep wagoneer (and she was pissed about the gas mileage silly git) with her cassette deck (it was a magnificent sound system her stepfather was a soundophile) giving her therapy. That day she was mad at the world and Martin Luther was the underdog that she and Bono got to use to FUCK THEM! and have a voice. So she's lost broken shattered crying in the car for humanity (and her own pride) blaring under a blood red sky and unforgettable fire dreaming of the time when she'd escape and be happy...
FF to the Lii years my darling darling darling darling victim...
She's way older and the fat she lost from the poverty makes the skin more floppily and the sucking in of numbing medication was just not that great on the neck for sure, but did she give a fucking shit? nope. this chick was broke. sitting on the $10 ottoman she had bought from the akido/shinto/kendo guy when she had lived up the street from him in the hills where Mark Twain himself marveled at the same view she had.
Now she down low and crying. She'd been anxious all day. Worried about money and the ensuing cat she shouldn't afford. Last year it was about ennui. She had texted the one tenuous single solitary human blood friend she had met "want to go for a walk around le lake". because when you're poor, you don't offer more. She had earlier texted this friend her usual - this would only be their second walk since meeting each other in Rocktober - friends are harder than lovers don't you agree bumble bff app. Our girl was cautious in AWL (sic) things yet with women for some reason it was the most treacherous caution (she working on it).
Text to New Friend Potential: Hey, Happy MLK Day, I know you're likely swamped on this holiday so if you don't want to walk, happy to raincheck. I'm good any time this week and tired.
NFP Text Back: I'm taking my neighbor to Trader Joe's but can still walk afterwards, and if you prefer to go tomorrow I can go then too.
Test to NFP: You're wonderful
So it was intentionally ambiguous. And our female went back into her pain cave for the day and worried about just everything and it's like with the writing thing. You become a lead role in your very own cage. So she becomes her own feedback loop for the day trying ever so hard to defrag or input some new code to auto fix, yet she just collapses at shortly after four and the aforementioned crying occurred.
and gasp boom shazzah if NFP didn't text:
New Friend Potential: I can walk now if you want
Sad old girl dried those tears so fast. It felt like almost god to her.
Text to NFP: Sure! Meet you in front of good news at 4:20
and she didn't write "sic" because she's not yet NF.
but later after the weird intense drumming circle around the lake, NFP's new pitbull rescue escaped from his leash to attack another equal sized dog.
OH SHIT.
Our girl ran into that fray like a mother.
Later when they were having a beer paid for by NFP - who is almost an LMFT therapist.
"you're really brave and you get involved. I really like that about you, and I would never have known that if we hadn't been in that horrible situation - thank you SO MUCH for helping me. that guy we were talking about, he would have sat on the sidelines."
She was shocked. It had been a million trillion years since someone had judged her without her asking or it being mandated. And to be judged well, she was preening and immediately went in and filed away for later to dissect if it was a trap.
She drank a sip of her beer and genuinely thought of all the stories of pit bulls mauling their owners or faces destroyed by them or deaths and such, and she remembered the look of awe on the face of the bystander that handed her back her hat and then respectfully put it on her head.
"you know, that was probably not the smartest thing to do, and I totally wasn't thinking. {they laugh] but Han Solo - our sharpei we called Booger - once inflicted horror and $4000 damage and after seeing that happen, I just didn't think. By the way, I'm pretty sure your dog doesn't have the kill instinct. holy shit if he did that could have been brutal. they just circled each other in those milliseconds that felt like years."
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