last day of july

i am moving tomorrow and it is a hundred degrees and i am sticky and mean. the house i am moving into is dirty and there is old garbage in random piles and cat fur and the smell of piss. but it has a nice big living room and walls to paint and a cute kitchen and tall shelves for books and knick knacks and a big window seat in the bedroom that looks out over the valley. at night it will be perfect. windchimes and fans. but in the day with no cool air anywhere in sight. it's okay i'm whining.

i am going to clean it up and make it cozy and perfect. i am going to create my own tibetan prayer flags out of a rainbow of colored fabric and my own symbols to bring whatever blessings i want on the house. i am going to hang up decorations from every continent and celebrate the world we live in just by being alive. i am going to watch movies and sit out on the big porch and drink lemonade and sit in a rocking chair. i need a rocking chair.

plants and animals and windchimes and colors and breezes and candles and silk and lamps, i will make it my own. and people will love to be there. and i will always have something good to drink and some healthy snack like homemade hummus or a bowl of fresh salsa.

someday i will be a real mother and have something real to love. for now i am mother of houses, boyfriends, parties, and books. i will take care of many things that don't really need it, and gardens will flourish around me.

shenanigans

the thing is everybody touches me too soft. then i turn into a cockroach. this is my alter ego so i can say whatever i want like my bodily volcano is imploding. like my favorite movie is innerspace and my favorite book is the purple pussycat. tell me when you are going to shut up that awful racket/ whiplash backsplat. you can wash your hair with beer and you can rub coffee grounds on your skin like a stripper. to reduce the appearance of cellulite. i would like to write a book like that. how to love yourself naked.