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Oh yeah, mercury's about to go retrograde. Hence me revisiting old patterns in relationship. Now let's just move on. Cause damn, I'm tired of the same topic and don't really want to think about it anymore. I just want to lie in the heat and drink cold beverages and listen to music or watch a movie. Or sit at the desk and watch the ring of water from my glass slowly expand and travel and fill in the lines of the wood grain. What's that line? When I can enjoy lying on the rug picking up lint fuzz, I will no longer be too ambitious. Then I counteract that with the thought about "that's not enlightenment, that's being lazy." I'm having dharma battles in my brain. There I go, thinking again.
The only time I wasn't overthinking today was riding my bike to various errands. Then I wasn't thinking, I was feeling. Mostly I was feeling dehydration and heat exhaustion -- why was I running errands at 1 o'clock when the sun was highest and hottest after a night of sweaty unsleep with someone who had me pinned against a wall for most of it? (Or so it felt.) I gave up after an hour and came home and passed out briefly on the bed.
Maybe I can at least point my brain towards other topics, including the book review or my five page critical paper on run-on sentences or the short story I'm supposed to writing or the books I've started reading. And not researching the novel idea I have that I'm not supposed to be starting for another two months. It's hard when you start having that writerly thing of people and images and ideas invading and inhabiting you. I don't want to get all new agey and isht, but damn, it fcking happens. I wake up with this guy's name on my lips, trying to figure him out. It's way more appealing than trying to figure anyone else out, including myself.
Okay, hunger and the heat is making me all weird. I'm going to the store for dinner. I think I need the walk too.
The only time I wasn't overthinking today was riding my bike to various errands. Then I wasn't thinking, I was feeling. Mostly I was feeling dehydration and heat exhaustion -- why was I running errands at 1 o'clock when the sun was highest and hottest after a night of sweaty unsleep with someone who had me pinned against a wall for most of it? (Or so it felt.) I gave up after an hour and came home and passed out briefly on the bed.
Maybe I can at least point my brain towards other topics, including the book review or my five page critical paper on run-on sentences or the short story I'm supposed to writing or the books I've started reading. And not researching the novel idea I have that I'm not supposed to be starting for another two months. It's hard when you start having that writerly thing of people and images and ideas invading and inhabiting you. I don't want to get all new agey and isht, but damn, it fcking happens. I wake up with this guy's name on my lips, trying to figure him out. It's way more appealing than trying to figure anyone else out, including myself.
Okay, hunger and the heat is making me all weird. I'm going to the store for dinner. I think I need the walk too.
