grease

The more things happen, the more people here scoff at the idea of wanting to be there, the more I want to be there. With the people there.

this job eats me alive. Always the same. boring black clothes, hair up in a knot, the same stress, the same pizzas, the same customers wanting the same things.

When I listen at night, I feel like crying. During the day, dancing.

mostly I miss dancing. and people I did not think I would miss at all.

I drank caffeine at 11. My legs are tired, but my brain is awake. slightly hungry.

Last night I dreamed of a dog friend who is no longer living. He was talking to me, but not with words. But I knew what he was saying. We were baking. Pizza, of course. It was burning.

I have superpowers. I can pick up hot things. (This is not true. It was said of me, but the girl did not pick up those pans. She did not know they were not hot.) (They were not hot.)

Tomorrow (today) I will be in that store until Sunday comes. And then I will walk home in the coolish darkness.

My hands are so vain-ey.

guard your heart. wellspring of life. I guard mine like... I don't even have a simile strong enough. Too much guarding.

I smell like grease. If I sat outside I would attract raccoons and possums and coyotes and feral cats, and all the deer would run the other way. My stench would pollute the soft smell of honeysuckle.

I got home and drank my dr. pepper and ate a cookie and finished the book I started this morning. Lost and Found. about a woman and her friends, and a dog. good book.

And now, if I am anything smart, I will shut this machine down and go to bed. Because it is late.

But I must add, God is way cooler than I could ever imagine. Today I got mad at Him, stupid reason. I had no right. Not even by American standards. But I did. But He still helped me an awful lot.

Goodnight my friends. Thanks for reading my heart-thoughts. I hope you have a beautiful day, wherever you are.

~P