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.