It's been a shifting day all day. Really moody. And then, while driving around with someone getting things done, I felt this terrible sadness and then a pocket of warmth and optimism or something and then sadness and it was weird, like hitting warm spots in a shallow water. But then, is this always good? or does it mean someone peed nearby?
I don't know whether to trust this. But when it's a strong nice, powerful feeling, it feels great. It feels like prayer. But the thing is, maybe those other pockets of sadness wouldn't be sad if I were thre and something was different. So, I don't know how to tell.
But we were at one end of town and sad and then this warmth grew and it wasn't laptop overheating either. Then it was sad again. And these "pockets". I wonder if they're shallow pockets or deep pockets. Deep pockets baybee. Just kidding.
After it was pouring rain, I mean POURING all day, or afternoon, it all lifted! with my first thought of liquor. It sort of still drizzled. Then I had a drink and the rain quit. I don't know where the good or bad vibes are anymore...everything is meelllllloooowwwwhhhh.wwwwwhhhh.
So I went to the liquor store after trying to get something done for housing when I finally had a ride. But it was late in the day. Too late. So what do you do? be depressed? or make the most of what you've got? Maybe there's a rainbow around the bend, maybe not, but I could die tomorrow, so...Sort of, i think, save conservativel and be very frugal when you can, but don't sweat small stuff you can't control and hope, always hope, for something to turn around or pop out of nowehre. If it can pop out of nowhere so BADLY, the odds are that the same kidn of thing can occur with good as well. So, I thought about Fergie for some reason, don't ask why, I guess bc I read she's generous and to a fault which is sort of like me, and thought that's why I'm poor to begin with and I just need to write some budgie books.
In my case, if it's this bad, it can hardly be any worse. It's not like you can worry about investments or interest on $300. I figure, you can either be in this state, and mire about, mucky, and save every single penny until one inches forward a small tiny bit, or one can say, "Hell, I'm going to do homeless well for at least 2 out of the 7 days of a week."
So I got my homeless butt into one of the better restaurants in town, in my week-old jeans and fleece. I ordered 2 scotch on the rocks and then the mussles. The waiter told me what the bowl was for when he brought it. "It's for the shells" he said. I nodded politely and said nothing (now announcing it to the world). Of course I know it's for the shells, and I know this isn't a seafood fork too, this is a fork for pushing logs around in the fireplace, but that's okay. I just mean it's wide. It's a large wide dinner fork. It was good, the cozze, which was mussels with roma tomatoes in cream and sherry with basil. I think I like the red sauces for mussels better. I left most of the cream behind. I think wine would have cut it nicely, but I had scotch first so didn't want to mix.
I really hope it doesn't rain tonight because that will suck if it does. My options right now have been homeless disabled persons shelter or hook the ex and I let him know his life will be a FUCKING LIVING HELL without me if he doesn't FUCKING MARRY ME NOW YOU PIECE OF SHIT. Uh oh. Google ads now say I'm "Sad" and "Need help for depression?" Oh and the "electricity" trucks are driving by me again, because I guess this might be a warning that tonight is going to be really "hot". Welcome to Wenatchee.
In a normal town, my attitude would be savoir faire. Here, it's, "Mental, mental, mental on the loose, binging, on the loose, binging, binging, binging...she knows how to use a fork? binging, mental SOS. She's compulsive shopping, alert, alert, she's impractical, alert, alert."
Meanwhile, I have my freedom while so many others are hooked into bad and boring marriages or hooking up all over town. Nice trade-off. I could stomache that for maybe 2 years. I only need a man for that long, just for a little jump start, ya know? Sure, sure, fight it? in this town? Hell NO. this is a patriarchial backwards ass place where no one will even give you a receipt for your bill unless the man is by your side. Because the woman needs to know nothing. Need sto have NOthing, unless she is PUTTING out for SOMEONE. Come on, honey. ANYONE will do here. JUST fucking FUCK SOMEone and we might give you your kid back.
If you have family here and went to grade school as a chick, you could even be full blown homely and lesbian and make it. You get the Wenatchee Free For All if you were born and bred here with buddies since kindygarten.
But an outsider AND not putting out for anybody? fuggetabboutit. If you want to move here as a single woman who is unconnected to others or trying to buck a conservative "the child must have 2 parents" mentality and "the woman must be sweet and non-threatening", you had better not come here unless you have a LOT of money, if you do NOT have a man. It is ONE or the OTHER. You either FUCK one of our local police officers or lawyers or somebody, or you PAY your dividends to our businesses. And keep you fucking mouth SHUT. This is how Wenatchee wants single women to earn their "keep", which is why so many of these women marry when they're about 18 years old and start popping the kids out right away. Then, if you think about going the other way and going to "church", you are mentally ill maybe and "need help" and since you're single, the Bible probably says, according to them, that someone else should raise your kids. So what'll be? hooker/escort for our townspeople? wife? or mentally ill older spinster who "got religion"? They gave up on their ideas about getting me into the escort business, or somehow forcing me there, so now I'm stuck inbetween wifey and nuttsy. Slutty is out. Wifey might be out. NUTSY IT ISsssssSSSS!
Come on, cummon, cummon, cantcha jusst... comeON! HERE'S a nice looking guy! cantcha just....JUST DO IT. GO! GO! Oh, darn. she didn't screw HIM. NEXT. WhOT? not HIM either? Crap. How about this Brewster dude? Not HIM either? ShhheeeeT.
oKAY, that's IT! Last chance lAY-DEE. You either screw now or you go to the NUTSO place. (Damn! she won't do married and she won't do SINGLE either!) or you get fucking MARRIED like a normal WOMAN because we don't want to have to deal with YOU--we would rather go through your MAN, and well, if you're at least putting out for HIM, okay, we have to respect another man and his "needs" even if we don't respect you, YOU worthless-piece-of-shit-woman-unless-you're-with-a-man. If you ever want to change your mind, here, take my card. Maybe you'll give us a call when you're sleeping under a bridge, if you never make it past ratting us out in the trashy mentally ill homeless home.
NO, you do NOT get a JOB. because THEN you might independent.
We don't WANT you independent. For one thing, then you might sue us and you'll be too powerful. YOU, yes YOU are the Unicorn. We must chain you up Wild Thang.
If we keep you down, you'll go to SOME man, we're sure of it. Or at least you will be like a neutered cat, with nothing.
I think I need to listen to Wild Thang.
Anyway, maybe what I saw in that dream I had, was the ominous calling or "The Writing On The Wall". That's you. Hmm, no chain on that one though. Now that I think about it. Couldn't have been me then.
***********
I like this music here. It's all jazz. Very nice. If I had exactly what I wanted, if I were not here and money not an object, and no legal things to worry about and just taking a break, I would be in a house with a fireplace and a fire, and live jazz or good sound system, and lots of music, and some drinks, and a fantastic sauna. I would sauna my drama away. That should be a logo. Sauna Your Drama. Sauna My Drama. Baths are good too. And I would eat seafood and appetizers all night or roast beef with horseradish sauce. Maybe then I would watch something funny like "I Love Lucy" or something or a really beautiful cinematographic film or deep dramatic foreign film.
I like this piano rendition they have here of "This is My Story, This is my Song."
Maybe I could go for one of those back scratcher things. Like, a thorough massage and then one of those wooden back scratcher things to take off all my skin. I actually haven't used one of those things but it came to mind for some reason.
I just ordered the Calamari Modo Mio and he looked at me. "It's not happy hour anymore." Like twice.
Thanks for reminder-ing me. It hasn't been "Happy Hour" for about 10 years idiot. Where are my fucking glasses. I need those spectacles for peeping over.
No, just kidding. I've actually been fairly pleased and happy with my life except for what has happened with my son and that's about it. Otherwise, I have no regrets. Je ne regrette rien d'rien.
There is some sense to being like a duck. Like a rubber ducky in fact. I don't know why this just came to mind, because I've never thought of it before, but I had this image of a rubber ducky and how you push it down but UP it POPS.
************
Waiter came back, of course he knows who I am--everyone does here. And he says, "So just killing time here?" and I said, "No, just having drinks and dinner." He said, "A day off from being a Mom then?" and I said, "I suppose you could say so." He said, "So what did you do today?" and I said, "We played and read some books, and...I'd like another Scotch." (Smile from me, & end of conversation.)
None of your fucking business. And since when does having drink mean you're taking time off from being a "mom"? This town is time off from "Being Normal" on a daily basis. Asking me if I'm "taking time off from being a Mom" is like me asking some of these people, "So...taking time off from being boring?"
"Taking time off from being boring?"
"Taking time off from being an asshole?"
"Taking time off from being a Dad?"
"Taking time off from being selective?"
"Taking time off from being a Christian?"
"Taking time off from being a canoe?"
(what do you mean by canoe? do you mean caNOE or KANUT?)
wait, wait, wait, wait, back up...where did you get that?!
Anyway, get me OUT of thEES hell-hole.
Wait, here's a good one...
"Taking time off from being an atheist?"
(I thought atheists didn't drink. Maybe he's a backslider atheist.)
So anyway, the boobs I saw. Should I really describe them? Am I okay to do so if I'm a little tipsy? Forgiven later? Hmmmm.....Nah, I don't think so. Well...Okay they were more than A cup. Because there was room underneath. Not fakes. I am going to be in SO MUCH trouble. I don't know how to describe boobs. I don't see a lot of them. I want to say they were B cup. I guess possibly small C but sort of graduated down and...I don't know how to describe it. I am only describing because it might be important for the person who it may have applied to. I really think more of a B or small B. They weren't the puffy boobs that sit up super high, so I know they weren't fakes. Definitely could have been Cs but not fake ones where they're all set up high and no slope.
Wait, wait wait...am I going to get paid for this or what? When is the fucking ARMY or other country's military, going to pay me what I'm worth?!
I think I saw only one thing first. Because it was the one thing, and the one act, and I didn't really see the boobs. Just waht happened. Then, I thought about it and tried to get a better picture and it could have been connected or not,but then I got these more softly sloping but firm boobs, that were large enough to at least have a curve underneath, so I knew they weren't A's. I could draw them but that would be weird. I don't know how to describe that aspect of boobs, how some of them will hide some small part of the chest wall because they overlap or something. Like, you could at least put a pencil underneath and hide it almost, because of the overlap or overhang or whatever the hell you call that. Sort of perked up though, at least so the other part (n-word) isn't drooping down but more pointed out or a little bit up. More out I think.
So that's what I saw. They weren't old lady saggy boobs. They weren't fakes, and they weren't super small where there was no give underneath at all. Sort of sloping but kind of firm. So whoever owns boobs, don't worry...I wasn't as clear about your face.
*******
So here I go, talented singer, writer, mother, remote viewer, activist, going homeless out into the night.
Maybe I will leeeeeaaaarrrn my lessssson. Sure. Better yet, maybe my teeth will be knocked out and then I will really make some people happy.
Crazy? or blessed with a fucking gift I cannot always control?
"you scare me"
I should.
Be vewy vewy skeered. For some reason I don't remember tan lines. For some reason, I don't think she had tan lines or at least I didn't see any. I guess if it was connected to that time exactly, it would be pretty interesting. If not, maybe it was two separate images. It would be interesting though, if it was connected to, and fit the whole time and everything.
*************
i got something about barrish. Maybe it's drunken imaging for "she's an embarrishment!" no, I got barrish but not barrister but close enough I THINK, to barrish. I don't know really. It wasn't an image, just an idea to mind. Not an image like some things I get. Barish. Barrish. have no idea. none at all. going to skip it.
I also thought, vainly, "I am the remote viewer extraordinoire, entering a vortex of superficiality!" or there already.
*****************
The burning thing is happening now, I guess because someone is MAD. Probably because they think I am too close to something.
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