And when the rain began to pound, I lifted up my face until I was soaked with the ache of the skies
I am currently drinking a quart of salt water. For shits and giggles. Literally. How my family talked me into this, I forget now. I'm beginning the Master Cleanse today, with my mother, and ideally my sister as well, if she remembers. Meaning that for the next ten days, I drink a quart of salt water first thing in the morning, to my bowels discontent, and then drink nothing but an organic spicy lemonade sweetened with maple syrup, all day. I mean, I'm allowed just over a gallon of the stuff a day, so I think I'll be satiated, but dang. Food is an addiction for me. Not eating is going to be a pain. Will keep updating, in not too much detail.
On an entirely different note, if I ever get back onto a Greyhound bus, either I'm going to be gagged and bound, and likely chopped into parts, in a suitcase, or whoever I'm going to go and see will be pretty much the most important person in the world. But I did have the opportunity to converse with a Native Texan, about all things important to him: Mud trucking and racing, his three-year-old daughter who's already a Dom, all things unpleasant about his ex-girlfriend, all the various piercings on his body, and how much he enjoys them... I also got approached by Native Texan's friend, who was very quiet and merely told me that, while he didn't know me at all, he thought I had an excellent personality, and that I was doing the world right, and I should keep on doing what I was doing. It was encouraging. I think he was just impressed with my patience with afore-mentioned Texan.
I spent the past week in North Carolina, and I miss those mountains. Surrounded constantly by music and musicians, and dancers. Oh god, dancers. I've made a point already, back in Bloomington, to surround myself with more of the sort. Music is my life...
And that said, I'm /FAIL at harmonies. If anyone knows how to harmonize, and can give me some pointers, I would be grateful.
On an entirely different note, if I ever get back onto a Greyhound bus, either I'm going to be gagged and bound, and likely chopped into parts, in a suitcase, or whoever I'm going to go and see will be pretty much the most important person in the world. But I did have the opportunity to converse with a Native Texan, about all things important to him: Mud trucking and racing, his three-year-old daughter who's already a Dom, all things unpleasant about his ex-girlfriend, all the various piercings on his body, and how much he enjoys them... I also got approached by Native Texan's friend, who was very quiet and merely told me that, while he didn't know me at all, he thought I had an excellent personality, and that I was doing the world right, and I should keep on doing what I was doing. It was encouraging. I think he was just impressed with my patience with afore-mentioned Texan.
I spent the past week in North Carolina, and I miss those mountains. Surrounded constantly by music and musicians, and dancers. Oh god, dancers. I've made a point already, back in Bloomington, to surround myself with more of the sort. Music is my life...
And that said, I'm /FAIL at harmonies. If anyone knows how to harmonize, and can give me some pointers, I would be grateful.