Potential Bakery Casualties

Every day, on my route to work, I pass several bakeries.  These places sell coffee and special breakfasts and breads.  They are Brazilian bakeries and I keep meaning to stop in and bring in something for my coworkers, but I never seem to allow enough time.

I have a major issue with this specific road as it's super busy and there's always someone trying to make an inconvenient left, cutting people off like we should stop for them.  I never stop for them.  This is Massachusetts; no one needs to stop for anyone here.



I have a major issue with the bakery people.  They park on the opposite side of the street.  They get out of their cars and run across the street to the bakery.  They run in front of your car.  I had a guy this morning who stopped just short of walking into the side of my speeding car.  I was not planning on stopping for him running into the street like a child.



I get it.  I like bakeries and coffee.  There are some tasty treats in there.  I also get starting your day groggy and not being aware of anything else in the world.  I get being self-centered, too.  I just cannot handle these hungry bakery people always running in front of my speeding car, nor can I stop for them.

Don't kill yourself.

Since this is a hard time of year for some people, myself included, I thought I'd do a sort of public service post.  Many people, including yours truly, feel incredibly lonely this time of year.  It's hard to explain why some people embrace and enjoy holidays and can feel joy and gratitude.  Some of us feel a void, something missing, and this holiday season seems to exacerbate that. 

If you're reading this and feeling like you want to kill yourself, read my poem first just because I want people to read my shit.  But, seriously, this is the information for the suicide prevention hotline: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

I did attempt suicide at one low point in my life when I was a troubled teenager.  I am not ashamed of this.  I've gotten to a point now where I enjoy my life and I'm relatively content.  I could not fathom ending my own life as I want to see what happens next and I know that things can and will get better and improve when facing adversity.  

My point is, no matter how much you feel isolated, you're never alone on an earth with billions of people in it.  Some of us care about all people just because we're kind and loving.  Find someone like that to talk to.  Celebrate friends and family and try to look at what you have rather than the voids, and I know the voids can sometimes feel crippling.  

I wrote this poem about suicide after Robin Williams died.  We all have darkness and strife in us; some of us just learn coping skills and learn how to manage it.  

Thanks for reading my poem and also remember not to kill yourself.  We all belong in the world, this big, beautiful, scary, crappy world we've fucked up and scrambled to make right again.  

                      how and why 

 how: it ends. something brought

 you to your knees. you've lived with 

 pain, as we all have. you can't do 

 this anymore - this living. you go then. 

why: can't you see a beat up, old, gray 

 Mercedes shining in the rainy moonlight 

 with an enormous silver canoe roped 

 to the roof - and take simple 

 pleasure in the privilege of 

 a sight - let your imagination 

 go - and recall the mood of a 

really good Stephen King book?

 how: you feel no connection to the 

 cells in your body that toil and 

 exist for you to live. life has 

 been with you - some say since you 

 were birthed - others say very 

 shortly after your parents fucked. 

 you're done fucking people. 

that should never get old or unwelcomed.

why: just thinking makes me feel 

 better sometimes. like how my 

ex-husband told me during a 

 semi-comfortable lunch: according to 

 Neil DeGrasse Tyson, humanity's 

 existence is a mere second before 

 midnight on New Year's Eve in the 

 year that is the universe and 

 all we know or can possibly 

 speculate about. 

how: you're not too scared to cease 

 your breath. it seems you're 

 more afraid of lonely breaths to 

 come. think of your lungs. after you 

 expire, they will expel their reserves

 which have been there for you 

 since after they emptied of your 

 mother's amniotic fluid. this is 

your death rattle. you'll not see a 

 rattlesnake again.; you'll not hear it. 

 you won't hike around Devil's Tower 

 in Wyoming, longing to hear one, 

 but secretly, safely, relieved that you didn't. 

why: it's not all about you. your life

 is not all about you. just you. people 

 love and people care. after, you know 

 people will hurt. hurt so bad and 

 miss you. they'll feel horrible that 

 they couldn't help - then, after 

 accepting they couldn't anyway, 

 a new grief of how shitty you 

 must've felt before you decided 

 not to live anymore. 

how/why: the Beatles. you'll never hear the 

 Beatles again. you won't rediscover 

 an old favorite from Let It Be. you won't 

 purchase a scarf and leather boots. 

 you won't feel a cold winter wind and 

 adjust the scarf, placing it over 

 your nose and mouth, the familiar 

 scent of your closet, of clean 

 storage, mixed with the blue, 

 blustery wind. you wont feel the 

 frigid ground, somehow harder 

 in winter - although that's not 

 physically possible - through boots 

 that feel snug and only a little 

 warm in the cold. you won't feel 

 that grateful feeling for the boots, 

 even if they are only semi-warm. 

you left us all. we loved you.

 you couldn't love yourself enough. 

 remember, it's you. 

 you couldn't love yourself enough. 

 this world and humans who 

 populate it can be horrifically 

 vile and cruel - heartbreak runs rampant 

 on our planet. 

 love. hope. thoughts of beauty. books. 

 our history. our future.

you removed yourself 

 from this equation 

 without solving the problem. 

 you didn't show your work. 

Eating the remainder of my lunch in the gym parking lot.

It was ham and cheese with brown mustard on whole wheat and it was delicious. I do not ever want to go into the gym, so this post is pure procrastination and I have nothing really to say. 🥪

Here’s some things I said today at work:

“Why can’t I be hot like a trophy wife but not be married?”

“I’ve done worse things in a church, trust me.”

“I wish there was some wine out here, or anything. I’d drink anything right now.”

“I don’t really like cock roaches, actually.” (To someone who erroneously thought I liked cock roaches).

And I’ve told at least three people today either that I’m not an asshole or I’m not crazy.

Now, to go into the gym and try to pass for human. Here’s a poem I wrote outside the gym once when I was in a foul mood:



To be human is to be ugly


A vile sack of flesh
awaiting another nasty being
to come along
and make it feel human again
The work it takes each day
to not congeal into a disgusting mass
and to pass as acceptable
to the masses, to what we've named
“society”
The most vulgar output of the meat
we are composed of is
feelings





And here is the best live recording of any song ever. If you disagree, I will throw acid in your face. 🤢 🧟‍♂️

Bitter Christmas: Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

Christmas is once again violating a perfectly good year.  Christmas is shoved down our throats as Christianity is the dominant religion in the United States.

Merry Christmas, assholes!  We have more money than you and bigger dicks, but enjoy us flaunting it while being stuck in traffic in your shitbox.  Life is good, for us, but fuck you and fuck the environment, too!  Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!

It's also a very commercial holiday, so the only way to completely tune it out would be to avoid all radio, television, newspapers, and the internet as well.  As an atheist, I feel like Christmas is a drunk ex-boyfriend.  I used to like him okay, but we parted ways and now he's drunk and trying to feel me up no matter how hard I try to get away from him.  We cannot still be friends.

I feel like when I express my dislike for Christmas and the holiday season, I'm perceived as a Grinch.  I'd like to present some basic reasons why I and others might not want to embrace the season that seems to grab so many by their jingle balls.

Go ahead, boy!  Go get rabies and bite Christmas in its giant, terrible ass!
.  

If you want to see lights, stay home and shove a flashlight up your ass.

Christmas is primarily for kids: With the whole Santa Claus charade (which I enjoyed as a child myself and encourage this kept in tact for children as long as possible), Christmas is a family- and child-oriented holiday.  There are some of us who don't have children.  Many people choose not to have children.  There are some people who desperately wanted children, but cannot or did not get to have them.  For people who are rendered childless, not by choice, Christmas (the ads, the songs, the general sentiment of it all) is a very painful reminder that they are not like everyone else and that they will not share in this Santa tradition, or buy toys, or have that Christmas morning experience.  This can be a difficult time to deal with this personally, especially with people trying to shove this experience down your throat and somehow take it upon themselves make the non-Christmas person see the error of her ways.

Christmas is a religious holiday: While I did grow up Episcopalian, I've never believed in the whole Jesus story, nor do I believe in god.  This is my choice and I think everyone should make her own choice about religion.  However, again, it feels like I'm forced to participate in this season that is based around what I believe to be a story conjured up by ancient peoples.  I mean, enjoy the show, if it's what you believe.  But don't try to get non-believers to celebrate something they think is non-existent.

I got you a bunch of pills so you'd like Christmas.  Oh wait, you died?  

I certainly wish happiness for people.  I think spending time with family is nice as well as practicing the golden rule (I want to go to that museum).  I don't think people should be out spending money they probably do not have on useless material things that carry no real meaning and don't really matter much in the long run.  The idea of going to a mall or another crowded Christmas-themed venue is horrifying to me, and I try to avoid crowds like this at all costs.  For a good will to fellow man holiday, people sure feel stressed and drive like assholes, too.

I'm not a jerk, so I do wish people a happy holiday and all that shit, to be polite.  And if you are totally into Christmas and love it, please enjoy it.  But keep all that noise bottled up and do not force it upon us or try to convert those of us who dislike it, feel indifferent towards it, or just wish to opt out altogether.

Fucking joy to the world, bitches.

Shit straight into space.

The final nhà vệ sinh?

Can astronauts shit straight into space?  I guess I'm no scientist, but it's a really good question my friend posed to me.  There might be some sort of hatch and they can kind of just stick their bums out and go.  My friend and I also discussed how they might masturbate up there as well.  Mainly, I think we were concerned with the logistics of it and also the etiquette.  Is there a set corner for such activity?

May the Schwartz be with you!

Speaking of shit, I am working on this painting, which I am mainly doing only when stoned.  I hate it so much.  I find it ugly. 

There are some interesting shapes in this.  I suppose given the shapes, I'll call it 'Willie Nelson'sYou Were Always On My Mind'

I find myself spending nights trying to improve it, but hating it more.  

Halloween is always a fun time of year.  I ate a ridiculous amount of candy.  

People brought some leftovers into work.  It was visible from my desk.  Friends are paramount in life and I got a new one for Halloween.

Just when I think I have things figured out and a plan, it's like the world and people kind of shift.  And I'm back to square one, often wondering what the fuck just happened.  I'm glad I have my own mind.  I don't know what I'd do with someone else's.  

Also 'shit straight into space' is playing to Fade Into You in my head for some reason.  Please don't let my ramblings ruin yet another good song!  Strange you never knew.  

See You Next Tuesday.

I'm on vacation, so today was a relaxing start, sort of.  Sometimes I don't know what's more harsh: my mind or the real events of the world.  I have to live with both.  I took the train into town and saw the Institute of Contemporary Art.  It was smaller and took less time than I thought it would to walk through, but it was fabulous.  There was an artist featured there, Dana Schultz, who had this amazing painting 'Shame.'  I must've looked at it ten times.  I opted to shut my phone off and not take photos.  It was a break from the phone sort of day. 

I am still growing this unhealthy obsession with Tom Petty.  Currently, I'm listening to 'Here Comes My Girl' and just thinking it must be so nice to feel that way about someone, and have no doubts.  Each time I start to believe romantic feelings, thoughts, and inspirations can be true, signs seem to dictate otherwise. 

I wish I could take my pumpkin picking partner to see Dana Schultz's 'Shame.' If this was a Tom Petty song, I wouldn't have to wish as even the losers get lucky sometimes. 

Things like this just seem too good to be true, don't they?  Maybe I'm cynical or an asshole now.  Jesus, what a beautiful, romantic tune.  I said it before, it's his love song to the world.  How nice he left us with something because I didn't get to see him in concert, nor did I get to have sex with him.     

Wildflowers for you, Tom.  Rest in peace. 

I recently started smoking pot to relax and sleep better.  It's helped.  I felt lately like I'm in this rut, this rat race of working and an endless commute.  I do really enjoy what I do, but the days have been merging together and suddenly I'm a year older and it's all the same.  Life is so fleeting.  

At any rate, I got stoned and painted this.  I also had this manic energy.  I wasn't exactly angry, but I was feeling not happy.  I can't tell if it's garbage.  I believe I texted my friend while I was stoned and referred to it as "muff cabbage."

Why does Tom Petty still have to be dead?

I have been watching his live concert videos a lot during my poorly planned peaches and pretzel lunches.  I wasn't expecting him to come back to life, but he looked like such a kind and happy man.  His music was wonderful and by creating then sharing it, he made the world a better place.  Looks like The Killers did a tribute to him.  Watch for the banner they drop. 

I don't typically go for blondes, but I thought he was sexy as fuck.  

I don't know why I'm so sad about Tom Petty.  I didn't know him personally.  I did have tickets to go see him in the mid-nineties, but I got stood up at the last minute by a much older man I was dating and no one else could attend.     

Life is too short to be bitter about douchebags who ensure you'll never get to see Tom Petty before he dies.  It's better to celebrate those who don't stand us up for concerts.  If we are lucky enough to have people in our lives who love us, embrace them and enjoy them. 

This cake was made by a ginger with no soul, and no vanilla  He's the best friend ever.  

Also, if you cross the street while I have a green light, you are a piece of garbage.   I will yell:"I wish Tom Petty was dead instead of you!" because I am not good at confrontation or being mean, and don't really care.  Just stay out of my way and don't cross on the green light.  And be grateful we all get to hear this man's beautiful music for the rest of our days.   

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
Sail away, kill off the hours
You belong somewhere you feel free

Run away, find you a lover
Go away somewhere all bright and new
I have seen no other
Who compares with you

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong in a boat out at sea
You belong with your love on your arm
You belong somewhere you feel free

Run away, go find a lover
Run away, let your heart be your guide
You deserve the deepest of cover
You belong in that home by and by

You belong among the wildflowers
You belong somewhere close to me
Far away from your trouble and worries
You belong somewhere you feel free
You belong somewhere you feel free

Why does Tom Petty have to be dead?

I don't mean to be a dick, but I would trade him for Bob Dylan.  I'm not wishing anyone dead; I'm asking for a trade.  I want to be clear on that, that I'm a good, virtuous person who isn't just wishing people dead.

Check out this amazing live Tom Petty song with a special, enchanting guest lady.

This is my favorite Tom Petty song ever.

This is a very close second, and one of the most romantic songs in existence.

So last night around midnight, the smoke detectors start going off.  I'm trying to push buttons and turn them off.  We all know I'm not mechanically inclined.  The sound was hurting my ears and I had no fucking idea what to do at this point.  All I could think was to leave my house or sleep in the car? 

I got some toilet paper and tape and taped the TP over the speaker thingy to quiet it a bit.  Okay.  I texted my neighbor downstairs and she said she had called the fire department.  She is a rational, thinking adult, and not some sort of weird person who lives in her own head and can only think of escaping.  So I'm grateful to have a together neighbor.

The alarm that alerts you that you wake up a hideous beast, the beauty and the beast alarm.

We met up downstairs.  She looked GORGEOUS.  She had on lip gloss, some beautiful fancy robe thing, and fancy sandals.  How does one look so good at midnight?  I had on a baggy Old Navy t-shirt that cost $5 and some pajama bottoms that look like they belong to a poor orphan. 

I don't hate men, of course, but I am so happy that whatever this is exists in the world. 

Tell me about the fire.

Living can't be easy

with all this angst

that seems to accompany passion

stars really do not align

although the tides do turn

There's some truth

and there's some lies

in nature and this living,

it can't be easy

"Romance awaits you."

Our hearts can be most resilient

when seeking love

Imagine the brightest human star

showing up on your doorstep

like a lit up dream

all light and fire and life

This radiant beast,

she burns for you,

and that takes a toll

on a soul

"Passionate new love appears in your life when you least expect it."

Why can't this be easy?

Truth be told

none of us want to be alone

and none of us want to need someone

or feel the strain of being needed

If the creature at the doorstep

is open and leaking blood on the stoop

suddenly that's all we see

no more light is visible

it's just the misery and that want

that rawness that eclipses our light

Living is not easy

and to love, this is life

and living can't be easy.

   

Rubber ratty?

Like many people, I dislike rats.  They conjure up feelings of terror, filth, and the ignorant fear of something I, as a human "lady," do not understand and cannot relate to.

Now,  let's talk about something soothing, like a nice, relaxing bath.  Unless you're afraid of water or some sort of similar fuck-up, most people do enjoy an aromatic, calming bath.

It appears he is bathing, as we say in the rat bath business, 'rat-free.'

Of course, you'd never take a bath with a rat, would you?  Apparently, I would.  Last night, I dreamed I was in my parents old tub (the one I grew up bathing in) and I was bathing with a dead rat.  I was also making a video with instructions on how to bathe with a dead rat (you keep it by your feet, by the drain).  Or, I was making mental notes for the instructions because the purpose of this bath was to make sure my instructions were correct.  

How would anyone know how to bathe properly with a dead rat unless I told them?

I had finished either saying or mentally cataloging my instructions and started to drain the water.  I went to pick up the rat by its tail and it fucking came alive!  I was so terrified and then I woke up, still scared.

Luckily, the terror of the dream faded seconds after I woke up because I immediately started crying over a recent heartbreak.  So, I soon had the feeling of sad misery instead of rat-come-alive bath terror.  My first moments before waking were horrifying and then, once awake, my mind (ol' reliable) pulled up a sad memory so I could trade the terror for sorrow.  Thank you, brain, for all of this.  It's like a fucking Price is Right Showcase!

I suppose there could be baths more scary than a rat bath? 

Chicago style popcorn is a miracle and I guess boyfriend shorts don't fit me.

I guess I'm doing well, but I would not go as far to say I'm "slaying it" or "succeeding" at life.  I'm not destitute or insane, but I feel closer to insanity a lot.  I haven't  killed anyone or anything.

  

I got these red boyfriend shorts at Old Navy, in the hope of wearing them and landing that boyfriend.  Well, the legs were boxy and although the waist was comfortable, it still created a rather large muffin top.  To sum this up, I looked hideous in these shorts.  And, bitch, one thing I do have is nice legs.  Terrible ass though. 

I had to return these before 45 days since the order, which was yesterday or today.  So I went to Old Navy yesterday, driving past the gym.  After I returned the shorts, I found myself at Trader Joe's, planning to skip the gym and eat Kung Pao cauliflower tempura.  I grabbed something I had heard about and had always meant to try: cheese and caramel "Chicago style" popcorn.  It's all mixed up in one bag.  And it is addictive and mysteriously delicious.  As the bag says, the sum is greater than it's parts or however the fuck that goes.  I am good at math, but not at that saying. 

Feel the burn.  I actually did; this shit was hot.  Oh, did I mention they use real fire?

Life can be fucking hilarious.  I went to WaterFire.  It was an amazing night, magical.  I had this feeling of hope I haven't had in many moons.  The next day was horrible.  Water and fire.  It's funny how quickly things can change.  This is a good reminder to enjoy the moment and to try to live in it, however one manages to do that.  It's all so beautifully difficult. 

I remain lucky to know such great people and have such nice friends.  One of my friends brought me these flowers from her garden after my terrible day.  Of course, there's hope and happiness always, no matter what happens.

This is my dog as a gangsta.

  

Look at his leg fur.  It's crazy long and luxurious. 

    

Stuffies and lost underwear: one woman's weekend (and she has a friend this time).

My friend and I went out to dinner and had stuffies.  Stuffie is a colloquial term for stuffed clams.  They were delicious.  I also loved the mini Tabasco bottle that came with it.

Take this clam and stuff it, I ain't working here no more. 

Today I was walking in a parking lot and my underwear, which felt too big all day, fell down.  It fell down my shorts, so it was clear to the middle-aged woman (who was watching me like I had Zenith written across my forehead) going into the store that my underwear was hanging out of my shorts.  I still had an errand to do, but felt a little embarrassed about my underwear oddly hanging out of my shorts.  

I should explain that the drawers were boy shorts, so it was as if shorts were hanging out of my shorts.  I took it off in the car and put it in the cup holder.  I had to throw it away.  My memory of that underwear is that it always felt too big and I don't understand why.  I didn't throw it in the parking lot because I'm better than that (my friend observed that a lot of people had littered in the parking lot and my first reaction was to join them and toss my shorts alongside the other litter).  I'm not litterbug, but when you decide to toss some drawers, you just cannot wait to unload them.  Pantload is a great word.      

I made this (Garfield) mushroom and spinach lasagna that turned out pretty decent.  I've made it before and it's even in a poem. 

 I think it's called friendship lasagna because a woman I worked with brought me some from her house when it was a bad snow storm and I didn't have lunch.  She was my friend, hence friendship lasagna. I do love Garfield.  

 

  

Lethargy II: How to outlive Wilfred Brimley

How is he still alive?  I don't mind that he's still breathing; I'm just surprised.  I do eat a lot of oatmeal but I smoke a shit-ton, too.  How you say?  Mezzo mezzo?

I've lived in this town for two years and still haven't found a place to go swimming.  I'd really like to go swimming or to the beach today.  I think I'll look at a map.  I feel very inland, which is a real son of a bitch.

Lethargy: one woman's journey into July

Today is July 1, 2017 and I couldn't be less excited about the prospect of a new day or a new month.  📅

I attended a funeral the other day.  While we were driving in the procession, I was touched that people stood with their hats on their hearts and their heads bowed while we passed.  It's actions like that, simple, respectful gestures, that make me think humanity is not a lost cause.

Happy 4th of July everyone. 

I started my vacation at noon yesterday.  I have been super lazy and I've watched a bunch of documentaries.  Of course, now I'm watching Behind the Candelabra, the Liberace biopic.

I made Pad Thai yesterday and it was so-so.  I forgot to add the garlic and sugar.

It's edible, but could be better next time. 

One of the documentaries I watched was Anita.  What a courageous woman!  I kept thinking of all of the sexual harassment training I've had at various jobs.  If it wasn't for her testifying, things wouldn't be as they are now.  It's quite remarkable if you think about how she came forward to testify about Justice Thomas's character in regards to his nomination.  Because she did that, the law is now behind any woman or worker who is sexually harassed.  My friend cracked me up with the following comment:

🌈Still no idea what I'm doing, but it's okay.

I have no idea what I'm doing in life and with Mount Bacon.  I only know I'm enjoying the fuck out of both.  Shout out to my friends.  Many of my friends identify as gay and as I write this, I'm tearing up because I'm just so proud of them for having the courage to be themselves in this world.  That is not easy.  And I'm grateful that they accept me for who I am.

Mount Bacon is progressing?  Again, what the fuck am I doing?

I love this beautiful mess.  It means I've been creating.  There's nothing more I can ask for in life than that. 

Mountains of things.

The title is stolen from a great song by Tracy Chapman.  Although I gotta say, my favorites are Fast Car and Baby Can I Hold You.  Behind the Wall is brilliant, chilling, and sad.  Since I am volunteering on a domestic violence hotline as I pen this, I avoid listening to Behind the Wall.  It's too real as it could happen to someone I speak with.

You can check out our website for more information or help with domestic violence: http://www.caring-unlimited.org/

I watched a sugar documentary and in some parts of the U.S., there's something called "Mountain Dew teeth."  It's just what it sounds like: a person loses her fucking teeth to high Mountain Dew consumption.

He actually is missing one tooth.  It's because he wouldn't let go of a toy in tug o' war when he was a pup.  His other person lifted him up with the toy, so the dog was hanging from the toy off the ground.  Tooth popped out, dog did not care.  He is balls to the wall. Look at those crazy eyes (and three of my toes and my messy laundry).

I was trying to paint this sunset thing with silhouettes of trees.  But it's turning into a mountain and perhaps a lake, too.  My friend said it looked like bacon.  So I'm calling it Mount Bacon.

I always wanted to live near the mountains, or even in the mountains.  It's my dream to have a cabin by myself with a ton of books and some dogs for company.  

There I am in my mountain abode, hunting a pesky salmon salad.  Tarnation!  

Here's the problem though: is crispy salmon salad indigenous to the woods or to the mountains?  Alas, it is not.  It is mainly found in Asian fusion restaurants which are usually located in a city or a suburb. 

New Orleans was a great city.  The creative energy there was almost overwhelming.  I aim to be creative and productive, however, I'm this House of Cards binge watching shitbag today.