January's Second Monday

If I had a teenager, I hope I would be the kind of parent that would say "yes" to a board game every time. 

It never gets old, playing a board game with your family. I do it with my parents still. And with my cousins and aunts and uncles. Sometimes with my friends. 

Tonight, for the first time maybe, I felt good here in my house alone. There's a reading playlist playing (light classical piano type stuff), I'm smoking a little weed, I have a glass of wine. I'm trying to read a book, although, I'm admittedly distracted by my contentment. 

The Cigarette Case

I'm with you most of the time. I know you like be because of my plastic blue jewel, but i'm classy just the same. I make you feel like you're a flapper from the twenties, frequenting speakeasys and discovering cocaine. 

There's no one else I'd rather be with, you know. You take a lot of pride in me and I feel that. I have a place of honor in your life and your routine. 

But there will come a time when we have to spend less time together. You can't keep this going forever. I see the times you lose your breath. It's a real concern. 

Look, you can find things to do with me after you're done smoking. You can keep cash in me. I know you need a place for that. Can you replace smoking with cash-carrying, as a hobby? Maybe if it means you get to keep using me, your Never-ending Narnia case. 

Timer's up...

I'm having a real moment tonight. Quite content. Not in a terrible amount of pain. Things are feeling good. My bedding needs to be washed. Why is it my instinct to find the thing that needs fixing? That's not necessary. Just keep naming the good things. 

It's nice and warm in here. Rascal is curled up in her bed on the floor. There's nice music playing. I'm about to take another hit off this pipe. 

There I went coughing again. 

Oh! My thirty minute timer went off. So now it's time for a cigarette. But I'm going to bring this rig, in case I have a genius thought. 

What's even the point of coming out here in the cold, 42 degrees right now, and trying to suck one of these down. Especially when I've been coughing. And it's so warm and toasty inside. 

But my mind likes the change of scenery, the change of the room. 

I've successfully run off all my boyfriends. It's a good feeling. All except Blaine, he's still around. But in a much more abbreviated capacity. We visit in person about once every two weeks. I'd call it a successful friendship. 

As for the other boys, I've successfully ghosted or grossed them out. So we're back to a clean slate. I'm determined to set my bar a little higher this time. I want some facetime with the next fellow before I give away the farm. Good news, i'm not as horny as I was a few months ago. It comes in waves. 

I don't know if I have anymore thoughts to pour out. Perhaps if I just let the ramble happen, something will form. I just smoked and I immediately want to go out and do it again. I really want to move my crochet out of the living room and smoke in here. But I know that's not a wise move. Smoking in the house is not a wise move. But it's so cold out there. And it fades away after a little while. I think I might have talked myself into it. Furthermore, smoking isn't quite so appealing when it isn't accompanied by a change of scenery. Maybe I will do it less often. 

I turned on an Apple Music playlist called Reading and it's jazzy classicy piano slow grooves and it is a revelation. I put it on when I had decided I was going to read. When I ended up not reading much - doing this writing instead - I left that playlist going and boy, is it giving me life. 

The weed and wine are helping also. 

A few nights ago, a man told me, "you're manipulating me with fake empathy." What a wild thing to say to someone. To be fair, I wasn't listening to his story. But I certainly wasn't trying to manipulate him. The only thing I wanted from him was his friendship. But he successfully spoiled that. He left a knit cap here and I threw it away. 

He's the one I got my Abita neon light from. I bought it from him. It was not a gift. But he did hang it for me. And he hung the fan on my porch. So there are a few reminders of him around. And I'm bummed that he won't be around any more. But honestly, he wasn't around that much to begin with. Very flaky and unreliable. Wouldn't answer texts, would make plans and not show. I'm okay losing him. I just thought we had a friendship. So I'm a little bummed that he thinks so little of my intentions. 

At any rate, I'm really enjoying this evening and wish I had more to write about. I wish I could fill pages. The keys feel so good beneath my fingers, but nothing is itching to get out. How do I find that thing? That thing that will light my ass on fire. Where is it? 

I want to keep working to get something out on the page. Struggle it out. Write something that makes you uncomfortable. I wish I would have taken more creative writing classes in college. I might have been really good at it. 

I've felt good today. But I will not be going to Winedown Wednesday this week. It really kicks my ass physically. And financially. I went last week and it was all I could do to stay until 6:30. I I think they'll understand if I miss this week. 

I'm tired of putting my body through abuse. Everything feels like abuse. Today was a good day though. I've felt good today.