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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Swimming and memory
Hey, good afternoon! I just looked at the clock and realized that its already five in the afternoon and I have done nothing all day. I even (for the second day in a row) skipped out of work with no explanation. So, Max and I are going swimming today. (I just typed in "shopping" for swimming, which was strange.) I have my new swimsuit which has only been in the pool twice, dammit. I was expecting a lot more when I bought it a few weeks ago and had it shipped overnight express to the tune of $17 dollars, just so I could have it that much quicker. I'm a fat chick ordering a swimsuit (without a SKIRT) to be shipped overnight to replace the swimsuit that is hanging from the back of my bathroom door which had gotten boring. This was never supposed to be my life. This was supposed to be my life: I was supposed to have been a famous author who lived in the middle of nowhere and had long hair which I wore up in a bun and sipped hot tea from handmade mugs while I wandered around the house in the late afternoon wearing floaty cotton dresses in earth-toned hues. I would be, of course, single. I would not have any pets--well, maybe a cat, maybe not. I would have lots of plants, especially spider plants in macrame holders in front of the large windows. I would have rooms and rooms full of books. I would have a giant claw-footed iron bathtub where I could take long soaks in the evening, and I would eat things like whole grain bread that I made myself. My other existence is based on my aunt who used to wear glittery tube tops and tight jeans and platform heels and disco dance and rollerskate. I used to love watching her get ready for an evening out, and I would think, "Man, someday, that's going to be me putting on that disco top and going out to boogie." The reality was me, seven years old, loving to draw and listen to music, growing up poor, hispanic, loved (?), in a huge family where privacy was a non-issue, eating tortillas and beans and potatoes, watching a lot of television, running around the neighborhood with my brothers...From that beginning, could I be anywhere else than where I am now?
More lies:
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