On a brighter note, I got a brand new bike. It is a baby-blue cruiser. I am thrilled! I plan on riding it down to Kevin and Wit-Knee's this weekend to go swimming for the first time this season. I can't wait. I bought a really good lock and a basket for it. I wonder if Tokyo and Kitty Kitty Bang Bang would let me take them for a ride? They are both asleep next to me. Kitty is spooning Tokes. It is beyond sweet.
I have to say that I'm looking forward to living alone again. Today I am going to rearrange the apartment and turn the dining room into my studio space, oh yes.
I've sworn off alcohol for a good while. I've been reflecting on the Disorderly Conduct charge and the repurcussions of that as well as what alcohol has done/is doing to so many people that I care about. When I go out lately, I tell the bartenders to make me something virgin and ridiculously girly. I love how they have taken it as a challenge and concocted some truly beuatiful drinks for me. La-la-la. More cherries, please!
I feel like I should be writing/thinking/feeling more on the fact that my marriage is over after 2 months. There just isn't much to say. It is simply over. Like everybody keeps saying, we got married in a fever, hotter than a pepper sprout. (We've been talking 'bout Jackson ever since the fire went out.)
I am going down to Hartford to visit with my parents tomorrow. I haven't seen my dad in 4 months. He's been so sick, he couldn't even make it to my wedding or Uncle David's funeral. The human body holds 16 pints of blood. When my dad went to the emergency room, he was low 5 pints of blood. FIVE. They x-rayed his stomach, checked his prostrate and sent a camera up the ole shoot, checking for blood in those areas, to no avail. They drew some more blood yesterday and the results should be back soon. I hope my dad is okay. I can't wait to walk through mom's garden, see their new puppy and just sit with my dad the way that we do when we are together.
I was thumbing through an old journal and found notes on a couple of photo projects I want to do. The first is to take a photo of every single person I talk to in a day. In this neighborhood, that should be very interesting. The other is to put together a book of pictures of people wearing hats. I think I will call it: People Wearing Hats. Anyway, here is Mr. Talent's cousin Phil, the first photo for the project:
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Later:...
I'm writing my blogs at home and then posting them when I go to someplace with intrnet acess, which is pretty much EVERYWHERE but my apartment. Grr.
I've spent the morning sitting outside, getting stoned with Gene Hawkins. It is a gorgeous day. Gene is an old man (he won't tell me his age) that sits under the shade tree not too far from my front door, just about every day. He is a really sweet fellow that looks out for my apartment when I'm gone, offers me the morning paper when he is through reading it, and brings me treasure that he finds in the trash, like a really decent set of speakers for my computer. He likes to smoke and drink, and sometimes he sings along to country music on his little radio. When he gets drunk you can't make out a word he says. That is most of the time. But today he was just high and we sat and talked and I worked on fine tuning my bike, oiling the chain, installing the basket and all that.
I heard a racial slut the other night that I had never heard before, and oddly enough, it was directed at me and my son. Haha. We were talking to Cowboy Curt about how our aunt is doing a lot of geneology and the paperwork necessary to register our family's roll number so that we may join the Cherokke tribe. Cowboy Curt called us WAGON BURNERS! Hahaha. Oh god, it still has me laughing.
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