conversation hearts
The only time I'm ever really alone and mostly competent is when I'm out by myself in my car, driving or parked in some obscure parking lot somewhere, sitting in the dark and NOT crying about how nobody is out with me.
I sat outside Safeway for an hour tonight with good tunes, Giardiniera italian pickled vegetables, and a bag of conversation hearts that I later found out contain only 50% conversations. Half the hearts are blank. Deep! I eat food like a pregnant pothead.
Some guy shocked me while my hand was stuck in the bottle of pickled veggies sitting in between my legs. I rolled down my window and he muttered something about just being out of jail and needing money to take a bus to Oakland. A homeless-looking man standing on a highway offramp almost made me cry yesterday. He had a dog, and his dog was so fat that he could barely scratch his belly, and it was pretty hot yesterday around noon. I searched my pockets both times for dollars and came up with nothing. Tonight, I gave the jaildude some quarters, and he ambled away. One day I'd rather have a conversation with one of these guys instead of apologizing for not carrying cash or just handing them whatever I have. Maybe if I was a braver dumber girl, I could have offered the guy a ride to Oakland. Stuck him in my passenger seat next to the pickled vegetables and made him listen to my tunes the whole way up, ha. Unfortunately I have to get an oil change tomorrow or soon, because I'm 200 miles overdue and a roundtrip drive to Oakland sans oil is probably not a wise choice. Among other things.
I washed my rats' giant pile of towels today and pretty much flooded the washing machine. I found this girl on craigslist who likes rats too. Started meeting a bunch of people but I don't really want to go anywhere. Almost went to this life drawing thing with real people (not a class) today, but I got the times mixed up and sat at home instead. This guy I know lives in an art gallery house, of sorts, with all these other artists. We've only hung out twice but both times it's just constant art/life/rat talk and it feels like therapy. Therapeutic. They put on shows every once in a while. Been meaning to go to one. Next month probably. It seems pretty ideal, living like that. Need more monies.
I kind of wish I had thought of driving the man to Oakland tonight. I wish I'd thought of it earlier, depending on what the jailtime was for, if I even heard him correctly. Petty theft, probably. I am a partner in crime. Something scary or serious, probably not. It could have been really exciting though, in a dreamier unrealistic way. I wonder if my car would have smelled. ha. I wonder if I were to go back to Safeway right now, if he'd still be there. Who knows, too late.
Tomorrow I'm gonna fill out a Safeway application. My favorite place in the world.
I need to stop eating these hearts.