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peppy is my hero (whatever)

i was doing that thing i do when i have no mandatory schedule. a million things on the list but somehow doing pretend karaoke in my underwear in front of my mirror that i have yet to hang up and is all dusty is the most important thing on the list. doing that throw my head back pin up girl pose, ass towards the camera, just like on that postcard they made. They are doing this show together, one that i was originally invited to do, too... i wonder if that means they are talking or back together. whatever (i know, erin hates whatever, but this deserves one big giant sigh and whatever is the verbal equivalent...) it would just figure if that was the case.. dance people and yoga people and animals and pregnant ladies, man, i'm telling you but my gays take the cake on being drama... hense the tern.
i was supposed to go to the civic center and renew my license (already late) and i should have mailed that ticket to nevada, but i have no money for either. Like my dad always says, "pot will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no pot." but then he also says "eat it! it's tastes like candy" and "friends don't touch friends breasts" so what can we take from that lesson? i'm not to sure, but i'm sure that it has been sent for some reason.
I was also supposed to do some laundry and maybe take out the trash.. definitely figure out what that smell is in my car... figure out what to do with my camping stuff since the lock got broken off my storage thingy... too many things... over stimulation... so back to
spin spin sugar... how appropriate... a typical 90's child... a postmodern sleaze...
sunday morning coming down, black velvet...
so i went for a walk down to peppy's and got some eggs and hash browns and toast and ate it all really really fast.
i totally threw up my whole dinner last night once i got outta my car, i was like, just make it to the bathroom, just make it to the bathroom. It was the closest thing i've had lately to an anxiety attack, but that's not really what i would characterize it as...so today i had to refuel my eggs and hash browns quota... the studly hispanic waiter dude was flirting with all the old ladies and pretending i didn't exist, it was weird... sourdough is awesome.
so turns out i'm totally fucking psychic... less noise around to distract from it... i had this dream that robert came to apologize and he took me to home depot and told me to buy whatever i wanted. when i woke up, there was a text from laura that my screens had been ordered by robert. and that dream with dan reaghlt? turns out he and my dad have been talking and stuff... whatever... (hehe)
I feel this weird lack of feeling around not being able to talk to my mom and sister right now.. like, well, i fell like: whatever. i know i did the right thing. it actually works out great: i get to be the bad guy (as my mom would put it...) and she gets to be on the little sister's side so it avoids the problem of the conflict being directly in the home, it gets to be collectively directed outwards AND most importantly, something got done. Zoom out.
Zooming out.. that's exactly, yes... that't another way of putting the whole thing...
so here:
bouncing, boinging, reflection - holorgram, vibration... zooming out... making the whole perimeter... like going up in a plane and your stomach drops... so zooming out - seeing the bigger picture, non attachment (how trite), full circle, zooming out, walking for 12 hours with no destination, just allowing the space to take you where it will. allowing, zooming out.
the rant is still in me, but it doesn't shake my pit, zoomed out. it's just what needs to be done... could feel like a little bit of loss of innocence, but just like that book with the mountain ranges, seeing all of the laters and folds at once, living only in the parts you want to. it doesn't really matter, just a ride... jump off: see what happens, bounce off, detach...
mostly i don't want to drive down there, like ever again. i hate the south bay, so goddamn pastel... blech... i like throwing up my dinner more than i like stupid fucking hermosa beach and the stupid fucking spa with pretty glass walls and pretty colored rocks that say things like "breath" and "joy" and "gratitude." and it has little waterfall foutain thingies and soaps and creams and butters with all kinds of smelly fruity sugary smells... yoga people.. jesus christ, man...
meh... mehh... meh....
next week should be better....

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