May 10, 2025
Getting long in the tooth some might say.
I stopped writing for a bit. Disappeared into my airship.
Surfacing through water. But have I forgotten how to breathe?
All the music on Spotify sounds the same to me. Not like last year's listening.
Look for the rhythm, look for the flow. Find a little something to make it all go.
Got hats hanging on the wall. These damn ceilings are so tall.
Might build an altar on the West. Would really complete the look with a proper bird’s nest.
I cried a little in Tractor Supply today.
Bought two horseshoes to keep the fairies away.
Walked through beautiful tack and grooming supply smells, been a long time since I remembered those memory swells.
UV window film going on today. Keep us from melting (completely) away.
Reg stopped to talk on his walk yesterday. "It's short for Reginald, but Reg is just easier, ya know?"
He chose the hottest part of the day to venture out. "It's great isn't it," he says so proud.
Before I can leave to run errands, "I just want to let you know.. it's getting that time of the year when the evenings aren't so cold. Some of us neighbors get together around a campfire and share stories. Bring a dish to pass. Get to know each other. So be aware, that's coming up."
An official unofficial invitation to join their club. I still remember the moment one of my exes’ daughters called me cool, left me shocked and dumb.
My phone updated and I don't like the changes. Sign I'm getting old?
Nikki said, "40? I thought you were 28," yesterday though.
Bought ingredients to make my own electrolyte powder. Call me little-miss-home-on-the-prairie Annie a little louder.
Citric acid is made from black mold. They put it in everything for every reason. If you leave a little sit in water it'll grow more mold in a few days.
Water bottle petri dish daze.
Me on a date trying to explain liver detox phases and why some people get tired when they drink caffeine.
"Hey, what's your favorite potato chip?"
"Me? Oh, um, well..."
6 foot something, slim, shy, blonde hair blue eyed. Tattoos to the chin and fingertips.
"Yeah, I'm shopping for someone and don't eat chips, so help me out would ya?"
"Yes ma'am. Spicy or no spice?"
"No spice."
"These right here are pretty good." He points to a bag of queso-flavored Ruffles.
"Great, do me a favor and throw one in my basket."
"Yes ma'am."
"I appreciate it, have a great day!"
Walking away, "you too... You're really beautiful by the way."
"You're really handsome too."
I've got that energy men want to consume or exhume. Whole, rested, big dreams being fulfilled. Bright eyed, bushy tail doom.
Asking Billie, "what is the obsession men have with cutting things down?" After she sends me a news article about two men being sentenced to 10 years after cutting down a historical tree in some city.
"Women are nurterers and men are destroyers," she says matter-of-factly.
And I don't think it can be summed up better right now.
Texting the window film guy this morning, "could you do me a favor and not wear cologne?"
"Oh sure, I don't wear anything like that."
Remembering how I had to dodge, duck, dip, dive, dodge the strong smell of his chemical aroma when he came out to sell. Real interesting guy, we chatted a long while.
I want to go to Goodwill today and find glass jars.
Took Bruce the bag of Friday food. "Well, I think I've got a few dollars on me..." as he fished in his pocket.
"Oh shut up. We're friends," I say with a hug.
I still owe him for coming over to defend me with a hammer that one night. And the time he stopped me crying to say, "you deserve better than this."
He's always been my cheerleader. $50 in groceries isn't any big thing.
"Someone at the store helped me pick out the chips, so if you don't like them let me know and I'll give him grief about it. There's cold cuts and cheese on the top so eat that first."
"Fuck, how'd ye know I ain't eat since Wednesday?"
"Something in the Universe, you were on my mind today."
Black and blue steaks with sea salt. Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate myself.
Supposed to be a big full Scorpio moon on Monday. Instagram keeps telling me it’s going to howl at my soul, surgically forcing me to come back to the places I left myself.
Interestingly, I’m back in a place full of such things.
Write about the things that stings. Burn the sinus with hot fat tears. Send that laughter off with wings.
That's never gonna be stories about boys.
It'll be about selling horsies.