Music / Real life

don’t remember who you’re talking to?

8f445967427e36c629d80e0b04a545d7cd1aec49cce9f3d4d33999870641f7e1i took a walk a few minutes ago to make sure i got at least my mile in before i sat back down to work at the computer. i passed a few oddities sitting on their front porches and watched a kid power kicking the helloutta his toys in his front yard while his parents looked on smiling.

i shared an awkward “hello” with a suspicious looking dude in an alley while thinking that i was glad that i had carried my cane with me (in case my ankle started to hurt too much) because it would make a decent-enough weapon in a pinch.

i walked purposely eastward until i felt the urge to turn south and wing my way back home past the houses that all look so much like mine.

i moved some blocks in the back yard, spray-painted something (because spray paint). Then… with no other excuse to stay out of my own fucking house, i came in, put on water for coffee or tea (have yet to decide) and looked at my computer screen willing myself to work. No luck. Nada. Brain elsewhere.

i thought about my therapy session today… thought about how i choose to do some things to make people happy and i choose not to do some things to keep peace and i choose other things based on fear of their impact or even because i don’t want people to think certain things about me. i make so many decisions based on something other than me.

i think it might be time to get myself a fuck buddy… and no, NOT my therapist. i don’t want to hunt one down, but i’m going to start opening myself to the possibility of sharing that sort of experience again. i don’t need a fuck buddy, but tonight? If i had one? i’d totally make a booty call because i have no desire to work or clean or do any more yard work. i want to fuck.

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