raybear | (no subject)

I keep stopping and starting and stopping and starting and really it's only been 23 minutes. I go crazy in the 3 o'clock hour. I'm seriously not a sane person for an entire sixty minutes. It starts to fade as the clock passes 4 o'clock.

I'm trying to get my second wife to run an errand with me, to take a walk, but she wants to wait until 4. Can't you see?!? It will be too late then!!

I can make lists. Lists of what to buy at the store. Bread, milk, eggs. Wait, no eggs for us, that's just what the kid in the Sesame Street cartoon recited. Perhaps frozen pizza instead which I've noticed is on sale everytime the bus goes by the story while I pray and chant that no one will pull the cord for Campbell because it's really only one and a half blocks to Rockwell and stopping in between seems unbearable at times. And sponges. We need sponges that won't smell like must.

I lied. I don't really pray on the bus. But I've thought about prayer recently, thought of the feeling of being on knees and looking upward and outward. I have been on my knees for a lots of things in the past several years (not all of them sexual) but I'm not sure that even one of them was to pray. Why am I making note of that?

I will make a list of what to do tonight. Laundry, which I've committed to by exchanging two five dollar bills for a roll of quarters at the Currency Exchange. Reading. And more reading. Cutting my hair. Mostly reading.

I have this nagging feeling that I'm missing something, that I've forgotten something, some important ritual or task I've been skipping. I can't shake it.