(no subject)
I remember the moment i fell in love with my truck. A sunny winter day, just after a nerve-wracking commute from seattle in the giant hunk of shoddily breaked(?) potential death, i looked back at it, wonderingly, at its powdered sky blue.
My kind of love always begins with wonder. Id like to attribute it to my taste for strangeness. Except, where most meet the conventionally bizzare and unexpected with hesitation to panicky adrenaline laced denial, i find it homey. I wondered where the truck would take me, and i did have definite plans to live and travel in the beast. Which i did. I wondered at the perchance meeting of a new friend. Ha, material affections.
Tomorrow morning, ungodly early, i am volunteering as staff to the local spartan race. Tonight i should have been living it up at some gay bar in san diego, possibly hooking up with a charismatic and highly affectionate female marine. Short too. But i only have a half interest in her, and were not going out because the gay boy guyfriends paycheck didnt show up. Ive napped and begun a book sent to me by jillian. Called the Fruit Hunters. So far so good. I have letters to write to her, but not tonight. Also in the pink ducttape bound package was a length of black rubber tubing. Because i opened this in class, and i knew the risks, my classmates saw my utterly gleeful toothbareage, and questioned. I said it was an inside joke. I thought it very funny. Jillian can keep me a little if she wants. Strange to think ive known her for a year and a half.
As for san diego. Im still in that funk. I feel restless and exhausted and trapped. I have little interest in the people around me, my attempts at socializing have all left me dissatisfied. My game is gone and i dont feel up to charming anyone. Combined with my obvious natural oddness, people dont seek me out. Oh hell, its because i dont want to be friendly and im very good at making that obvious. And i need exercise. It sucks being light duty because of my hip. Excuse me a minute while i pout and throw a tantrum.
But some changes are needed. Its almost summer again, and i want nothing more than to wander and eat of strange fruits.
A change in diet might do me good. Its nearly impossible to eat healthily when the chowhall serves..chow. We dont have a fridge, i dont have a car, and my income is more limited than my radius of travel. We have a 50 mile limit.
Theres plenty of prickly pear cactus around though. Maybe sometime in the next month or so ill visit my aunt sue and maybe the family ranch. Tomorrow, though its supposed to be cold and rainy, i should go find a few and eat them. And write those letters.
My kind of love always begins with wonder. Id like to attribute it to my taste for strangeness. Except, where most meet the conventionally bizzare and unexpected with hesitation to panicky adrenaline laced denial, i find it homey. I wondered where the truck would take me, and i did have definite plans to live and travel in the beast. Which i did. I wondered at the perchance meeting of a new friend. Ha, material affections.
Tomorrow morning, ungodly early, i am volunteering as staff to the local spartan race. Tonight i should have been living it up at some gay bar in san diego, possibly hooking up with a charismatic and highly affectionate female marine. Short too. But i only have a half interest in her, and were not going out because the gay boy guyfriends paycheck didnt show up. Ive napped and begun a book sent to me by jillian. Called the Fruit Hunters. So far so good. I have letters to write to her, but not tonight. Also in the pink ducttape bound package was a length of black rubber tubing. Because i opened this in class, and i knew the risks, my classmates saw my utterly gleeful toothbareage, and questioned. I said it was an inside joke. I thought it very funny. Jillian can keep me a little if she wants. Strange to think ive known her for a year and a half.
As for san diego. Im still in that funk. I feel restless and exhausted and trapped. I have little interest in the people around me, my attempts at socializing have all left me dissatisfied. My game is gone and i dont feel up to charming anyone. Combined with my obvious natural oddness, people dont seek me out. Oh hell, its because i dont want to be friendly and im very good at making that obvious. And i need exercise. It sucks being light duty because of my hip. Excuse me a minute while i pout and throw a tantrum.
But some changes are needed. Its almost summer again, and i want nothing more than to wander and eat of strange fruits.
A change in diet might do me good. Its nearly impossible to eat healthily when the chowhall serves..chow. We dont have a fridge, i dont have a car, and my income is more limited than my radius of travel. We have a 50 mile limit.
Theres plenty of prickly pear cactus around though. Maybe sometime in the next month or so ill visit my aunt sue and maybe the family ranch. Tomorrow, though its supposed to be cold and rainy, i should go find a few and eat them. And write those letters.