. . . i am ready . . .

I keep doing things. For example; today I tidied the house where I was staying, went to the gym, got my hair cut. I tidied the house and while I was in the bathroom, attending to refreshing the toilet and sink with Clorox, the evil-beagle-puppy proceeded to chew up the living room carpet.

Bear the evil beagle's handiwork

Bear the evil beagle’s handiwork

I went to the gym, earlier than I usually go – I’ve changed my time this week because the time I was going I kept running into a fellow about whom I was making up too many stories which were never going to come true and so I wanted to avoid him, and someone from my past life was showing up – so I changed my time. Today, I LITERALLY ran smack into the young man, and not ten minutes later, there was the ghost, haunting me.

I went to get my hair cut. I explained EXACTLY what I wanted. 0 guard on sides and back, an inch and a half to two inches on top, Anderson Cooper-like, so it would lay down if I wanted it to but just barely. So, instead, she somehow almost shaves the top of my head too.

On NPR there was a discussion of memory. It is NOT a tape recorder, but, rather, a reconstruction. We “create” most of our memories. They are unreliable and at least partially invented. I have to ask myself, what the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you make such hateful, dreadful stories in your head.

Does this look like Anderson Cooper's hair? NO!

Does this look like Anderson Cooper’s hair? NO!

Cuz my memories at the moment rather SUCK. And so, what am I left with by this NPR story? That not only do I feel like shit about my life and what was – but, in all likelihood, it was NOT that anyway. I’ve invented it. Which, on the one hand, explains all those people who hate me or who treated me like shit to whom I did nothing – or – wait – maybe they aren’t bitches pricks liars manipulators and – maybe – oh – shit – in any event and either way –

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH. I AM READY. Seconal. Dramamine. Pudding. And a plastic bag. Bring it on.










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