lilginks

Wow, Can I have any more adventures tonight, please? I bought a car today, a toyota cressida. I pronounce it Cre seda, cause that sounds cool to me. That's me... mm hmm. Bought the car from a nice man who has a son age 6 who likes to play frisbee. Here's the long and short of this story. It gets tangled and strange and sad, and honestly, I have had a day that is so good and so bad all rolled into one 12 hour period of time.

I was late for my radio show and knew I would be, so dj Alan took over and I played "southern girl," Better than Ezra, and "feel like a sex machine," James Brown within the final ten minutes of my show. Alan played a nice varie--tie, and I enjoyed just playing a few songs and making my cameo. I decided to take my house charge, the young, the lovely, Beta-brown dog on a walk. We walked down Main Street, Talkeetna, and I saw friends. They recognized Beta before me, that's how it goes.

One friend says, "we're going too." I look at her with sudden realization that she does not mean to the beach, the river. She is going to the gallery. It is incredible, I know. New paint, great signs, beautiful art, cool artists...one so cool it makes my back ache the way your head does when you eat ice cream or a popsicle. Brain freeze. Body freeze. Fuck an A squad car (thanks McCarthy, AK man).

One of his ex-girlfriends is behind the counter with my ex-boyfriend. Triple X, my god. She asks him to lift a bottle (a five gallon jug, the kind we got our spring water in all winter) so that she can have some water in her former wine cup. There is maybe half a gallon in this plastic jug. It is as heavy as a head of lettuce perhaps. I watch. My former boyfriend says, "they're actually making me work." I say nothing. I buy cards from another artist--six instead of three because my FB did not have change. I feel shitty. I can't help it. "Are you OK?" he asks. "That's quite a question. I can't believe you are asking that," I say. Since Monday evening when he got to his homestead, found my note "contact me when you are able" and realized I was finally gone, he has not tried to contact me. I tell him. "If you want to hear a story sometime, let me know."

I miss Eddy, the wonderful female chocolate lab Chris belongs to. I miss what I had before it went bad, so bad.

Tonight, the man who sold me his car came by my house-sitting gig on their way to Fairbanks. His son and I played frisbee. I had wanted to play frisbee with Chris. Chris says I wanted too much. Always, "I want," he says. I made sandwiches for father and son to take on their adventure. This man spoke of his fiance. I spoke of my former boyfriend. I guess we bonded more over frisbee. I wanted too much, and that is exactly what I ended up getting from my relationship with Chris. He says that painters paint when they are happy,, they paint joy, and writers write about their sadness. I guess I just think we are all full of it. At least I can laugh even when the stories are not funny to others. Maybe that means I am not a good writer. However, I know I ain't a comedian.

What a show. As it goes. Good night.