here, a quick snapshot.
i pretend. i live alone, eat healthy, work out. take good care of myself, look for a good tomorrow. Plenty of sleep, successful job. i write, paint, spill art from my even voiced calls to friends, family, strangers. Yes i pretend all these...
rationally, i so not live alone, although when awake and at home, it seems that way. the most i see my friend is when i should be asleep, or when his kid needs to be awake, usually around the same time. I eat, or sometimes not, usually just what i can throw together in a famished state of mind. I am no good cook, although i play at one. I usually can't sleep, even if i have the option, i chase dreams after i wake, staying prone for some gentle reminder of rest. a job is just a job, nothing more. i know i'm creative, i know i can write, but these things just don't seem to come out. the spigot is tight. i am tight. i try to stay in touch, but sometimes weeks go by with a barely a dozen words spoken to a far off friend. Rationally, this has been as so for a long time, the move north only peeled back the layers of calm comfortable bullshit that i heaped upon it all to keep it quiet.
taking a hammer to these habits, taking a sledge to my comfort level. spicing up the recipe, making it hurt. reaching out far more than ever, no more shadows. rationally, these things will pass.
do me one favor. leave me a recipe, or a token bit of trivia. smile, someone loves you from a far. or just smile, for me.
i pretend. i live alone, eat healthy, work out. take good care of myself, look for a good tomorrow. Plenty of sleep, successful job. i write, paint, spill art from my even voiced calls to friends, family, strangers. Yes i pretend all these...
rationally, i so not live alone, although when awake and at home, it seems that way. the most i see my friend is when i should be asleep, or when his kid needs to be awake, usually around the same time. I eat, or sometimes not, usually just what i can throw together in a famished state of mind. I am no good cook, although i play at one. I usually can't sleep, even if i have the option, i chase dreams after i wake, staying prone for some gentle reminder of rest. a job is just a job, nothing more. i know i'm creative, i know i can write, but these things just don't seem to come out. the spigot is tight. i am tight. i try to stay in touch, but sometimes weeks go by with a barely a dozen words spoken to a far off friend. Rationally, this has been as so for a long time, the move north only peeled back the layers of calm comfortable bullshit that i heaped upon it all to keep it quiet.
taking a hammer to these habits, taking a sledge to my comfort level. spicing up the recipe, making it hurt. reaching out far more than ever, no more shadows. rationally, these things will pass.
do me one favor. leave me a recipe, or a token bit of trivia. smile, someone loves you from a far. or just smile, for me.
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
I'm sorry, that was very patronising, but I only say it cos I'm in the same situation. In retrospect, my nightmare housing situation of last year, when I was besieged by stone-throwing brats and vowed never to return home before dark may actually have been a blessing in disguise, since it forced me to go out and be sociable and find things to do. Similarly now that I'm back in Paris, I discover that the apartment next door is under construction with lots of hammering and drilling going on all day, so, unable to work at home, I have to go out and work in the library, where at least I might offer a wan little smile to a contemptuous girl. (Today a statuesque black beauty borrowed my pencil - swoon!)
Anyway, enough self-pity, recipe: ... I ain't much of a cook either - the other day I saw a bit of City Slickers where the cook says 'The food's brown, hot, and there's lots of it!' That's kind of how it is with me. My pice de rsistance has always been chili: recipe: meat, beans, tomatoes, chilis, fresh, dried or sauced, however they happen to be available. simmer time depends upon hunger. Serve with rice. Secret ingredient: one teaspoon of Marmite, but I don't know if you have Marmite over there...
By the way, I'm enjoying the image of you being sat on by lesbians. Have you ever come across furniture porn?
In Sydney I saw a T-shirt (girl-size) bearing the legend: 'Dip me in honey and throw me to the lesbians'. Ahem.