onion mouth

Good sandwiches have onions, but good kisses don't. This creates a problem for dinner daters. Why do we only get one?

In other news, i'm going to try and make homemade pizza tonight.

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Last night, today was turned by midnight into another today. Today, I saw people pass out without telling me, and then come back and decide not to bring their old selves back with them. I am wary of the new them because they weren’t here while they were out. But it’s okay, because today I passed out and didn’t tell them. Today, I will congratulate them for their unconsciousness, and say goodbye for the last time. Today, I will forget today, and welcome them back, because they have been out for so long.

After dinner, we played catch, and then watched Sir Scott’s Gladiator, but only the arena scenes. Try this: Lord of the Rings without Frodo. Just skip the scenes he’s in. It’s gratifying.

The levees broke, and my brain flooded. It overwhelmed my foundations. Swirling muddy eddies stained the sofas in the waiting room of my mind, and when the water level got too high, I had to take refuge in my hair follicles. After it was all over, I had to wade through soggy memories and try to salvage the one’s whose blood red ink had not run.

God, what a pity party. But take it like this. I’m trying to log all the things that I need to hash out, not the good things in my life. The danger here is that by talking about it, I rile myself up, and encourage a self-involved, one-sided hyphen party.

But now for something delightful. I had my first Sour Apple Martini last night. Delicious. Thank you, Buddha (the bartender), and thank you, Coleman (who bought it). You might have converted a militant extra-stout drinker into a sometimes-something-fruity-isn’t-a-sin drinker. Because drinks that taste like lollipops and have cherries at the bottom don’t magically turn me into a ripe damsel in distress.

Loose Me

Lord take my stomach, and my heart if you wish it- just take the jitterbug, too. My gut is wilting, one short brick wall of unsettled dust in the sponge of my body. If I had a sedative, or knew where to get one-no, I wouldn’t. But still, it’s been days. Let me loose, foul affliction. Let me glide throught the brush, hear a breeze whistle through them grass lakes and relax. Loose me, looose me.

Wine and Cheese

Many happy returns to my knees, who went on a furious vacation and forgot to tell me. They’ve come back exhausted and itchy.

Question: once your secret identity is revealed, do you have to create another one out of boredom, or do you get one step closer to nirvana?And another: how many times in one wine and cheese party can I stick my foot in my mouth? I’m wondering if I said the single thing that would alienate me from my new kith. Also, I am uninterested in the way budding friendships are awkward. I’d like to relax, and i’d like for Florida to stop laying soft pollen in my epidermis. Ah, newness. It’s destructive.

Fresh produce may be the answer.