Goddammit, writing 1,000/words a day is harder than I'd expected. Part of this retirement experiment is to find out if the things I thought I'd love and be good at turn out to be just an appealing idea of myself and not really me. We shall see.
I'm in the sleep-fighting ring and getting pummeled. Part of the reason is a Blue Alert that went off at 4-fucking-19 this morning. What is a blue alert? Well, it's a variation on the Amber Alert to help find abducted children. If you add too many more color alerts, we're going to need a cheat sheet. Blue alert is a warning about something happened to a cop OR warning that someone who injured a cop is on the loose. Confusing, eh? Well, whatever it is, it woke me up on a morning that I was worried about waking up on time (had to pick up the Saint at 6:30 am after her overnight sleep test) and that was all she wrote. No more sleep for me.
Aside: every time I read a Silver Alert on a highway sign, I whisper, "Go grandma, go!"
After picking her up from the sleep test, she wanted to go to breakfast. I am not a restaurant patron. I very rarely go out to eat. It's a combination of frugality, a passion for cooking and a love for delicious food. The only place open before 7am was a new Katz's Deli in the Heights. You know that saying, Pick two: fast, good and/or cheap? Well, Katz's is not standing out in any of those categories. Still, it was decent and we were hungry. When we walked in I realized I could never fully escape my past. The Sinatra song playing was the aural component of damn good marketing. A New York deli with Sinatra crooning over the sound system? It was perfect. As much as I want to ignore it, I see/hear/smell/taste branding everywhere.
I want to wax poetic about daydreaming. Laud the power of letting my type A personality go to seed. Sing the praises of the blank page and the creative potential in mind drifting. But today, daydreaming is just the slippery slope to unconsciousness and I can't.
Speaking of work shit I'd like to forget, I was happily chatting with my old Art Director (old meaning past, not ancient). Then, he had to get off the phone for a meeting he'd forgotten and goddammit, I remember how much I will NEVER miss work meetings. Feigning interest in someone's insecure ramblings took years off my life and it brings me joy to never have to restrain my eye-roll again. Ever.
I also wanted to ramble on a bit about sex. You know, why it's so amazing. But I feel I will never do justice to such a delightful subject in my current state of sluggishness. What a shame. Hopefully, I'll be back on this subject before too long. I spent way to much of my energy as a young girl clamping down any and all sexual urges only to find out like the child of an all-natural, granola-head parent that they were all wrong about evils of ice cream. All wrong.
But, I am sad to say, I will only reach 500 words today, because I decided to get stoned and now I'm useless.
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