cold rice

how many times has this post has been drastically rewritten: 5, 6, 7 times?

this post is not deep - just rambling.

two weeks ago
after the night show I'm down at the top of my stairs, I'm down staring into a pot of cold rice I pulled out of the refrigerator thinking about over the shoulder smiles and the answer my friend came back with.

two weeks of
my head down blurry eyes watching late night poker with a slightly less salt in the mouth reaction to infomercials. The television reception lost I give up and in to sleeping on top of comforters with the fan buzzing out sounds of buses and trucks rumbling down Glendale over the same bump in the street. Two weeks of staying in then a week mostly up and about to three most nights and all I wonder if this week will even out somehow.

So Friday I slept and Saturday still sick and I remember cooking and sleeping for hours as the 99cent nyquil put me out and over comforters without revelations to my current state of mind. I slept on it and failed even that.

Sunday was normal laundry at Lucy's where the firehouse opened to Sunset and a crew filmed in the apartments out back. Waited for important to me calls that never came, waited for awhile before grabbing lunch and a movie with my best friend which I would call close enough to being a great day. Thank you dj cz.

And it was even better for the music soundtrack was the greatest hits of perfect among aged blond over gray ladies in pastel shirts, mini frosted wheat size dog teams leading them through clothing racks peaks. Ok some of the dogs were cute I'll admit. Ok I did laugh when the amplified strumming scooted from the Chanel purse display those who didn't bother to look her in the eye. People who could afford so much can't even give away a smile shuffling by on polished cement floors. we give the best we have and try to be ourselves. maybe someone notices maybe someone doesn't.

I've reached this point of acceptance; this is how it goes.
I like the reality of today.


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