Sometimes I am mentally unstable.
I am not schizophrenic, thank god. Nor am I bipolar. That usually shows up by the time you are in your 30's, so I'd know by now...Nor am I clinically depressed, though I guess there is still time for that!
Sometimes I feel all of those ways.
It's Saturday and I worked all day. As a result I feel like I deserve some kind of reward. And it's not clear what would make me feel better.
First choice: a love reward.
I want a lover to come out of the woodwork and ravage me.
But after some preliminary text messages, it appears that my desire shall remain unrequited.
As a back-up, I'd really like to alter my conciousness in some other way.
For example, there is some sticky skunk weed that my son's friend gave me the other day sitting in a jar on my shelf. Normally I would pack the glass pipe I stole from my kids room and take two or three hits by now. This would sufficiently alter my consciousness for the entire night. And I would be happy. I might not forget about my love needs, but I would feel temporarily euphoric.
Getting stoned is like a cheap vacation from my normal self. Unfortunately there are consequences. I hate to admit it, but the fragmented feeling from which I've been suffering the last few weeks may not be helped by my weekend pot smoking habit.
So I've decided not to smoke that incredibly tempting skunk weed sitting right over there on my shelf.
Instead I'm drinking. It's the house cocktail: ginger tea and vodka. And it's doing me fine.
Blasting Joe's 5-star, all-genres playlist while he prepares 6'x1' aluminum panels to paint for his next exhibition. Peace Frog by the Doors, now Dazed and Confused by Led Zeppelin.
Joe is my main squeeze. My man. He holds me through all my mental instability. When I have momentary breakdowns and near psychotic breaks. He deserves a lot of credit for being my safety net.
Ian left on his walkabout, somewhere in Big Sur area.
Joseph staying in our Bolinas house this weekend.
Zoe in London representing. Here with Arya.
I am not schizophrenic, thank god. Nor am I bipolar. That usually shows up by the time you are in your 30's, so I'd know by now...Nor am I clinically depressed, though I guess there is still time for that!
Sometimes I feel all of those ways.
It's Saturday and I worked all day. As a result I feel like I deserve some kind of reward. And it's not clear what would make me feel better.
First choice: a love reward.
I want a lover to come out of the woodwork and ravage me.
But after some preliminary text messages, it appears that my desire shall remain unrequited.
As a back-up, I'd really like to alter my conciousness in some other way.
For example, there is some sticky skunk weed that my son's friend gave me the other day sitting in a jar on my shelf. Normally I would pack the glass pipe I stole from my kids room and take two or three hits by now. This would sufficiently alter my consciousness for the entire night. And I would be happy. I might not forget about my love needs, but I would feel temporarily euphoric.
Getting stoned is like a cheap vacation from my normal self. Unfortunately there are consequences. I hate to admit it, but the fragmented feeling from which I've been suffering the last few weeks may not be helped by my weekend pot smoking habit.
So I've decided not to smoke that incredibly tempting skunk weed sitting right over there on my shelf.
Instead I'm drinking. It's the house cocktail: ginger tea and vodka. And it's doing me fine.
Blasting Joe's 5-star, all-genres playlist while he prepares 6'x1' aluminum panels to paint for his next exhibition. Peace Frog by the Doors, now Dazed and Confused by Led Zeppelin.
Joe is my main squeeze. My man. He holds me through all my mental instability. When I have momentary breakdowns and near psychotic breaks. He deserves a lot of credit for being my safety net.
Ian left on his walkabout, somewhere in Big Sur area.
Joseph staying in our Bolinas house this weekend.
Zoe in London representing. Here with Arya.
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