My People flew from SeaTac to ATL Wednesday night. I got off work at noon on Thursday and we drove down to Florida for a music festival. It wasn’t my preferred genre, but I love live music no matter what. There ended up being a band playing who I loved, the seats were excellent, I’ve been stoned for the past 4 days with my closest friend. It’s been a Mother’s Day for The Books.
Picked up my BFF at airport last night.
I spent the last few days sleeping through feelings so bleak that I called out sick 2 days in a row.
Probably not wisest to quit sugar and vaping on the same day.
My two most reliable sources of instant dopamine. And I continue to chase the dragon.
I think I’m okay now? I’m off my game. Depressed.
But my head will get in a better space. It always does. No permanence, Man.
At that certain place in my life, where everyone knows my dog is waiting in the car, and she’ll be A Good Girl if she can come in.
My Lady Lover and I went camping last weekend.
She packed all the gear, went grocery shopping, drove us to the mountains, and set up the tent.
Once the air mattress was fully pumped and the sheets were on we smoked some weed and spent hours making each other cum.
Then she started the fire and made dinner while I sat in the hammock, and watched her work.
It got cold and rained, but the gear was solid. We stayed dry.
I big spooned her all night with my hand up her hoodie, cupping one perfect breast.
Sunday morning, she made coffee and walked Wilma in the rain. We snuggled in the tent well past our check out time.
I no longer spend an obscene amount of my inner life on self-reflection.
And I’m fairly certain, after seeing as many professionals as I have, that therapy is about as useless (for me) as hypnosis or meditation.
I don’t feel any kinda way about anyone I’m sleeping with and I don’t if it’s because that particular part of me is broken forever or if I’m still in the process of healing.
My lovers are people from my past. They’re also all in other relationships. And I’m not eluding to ethical non-monogamy or polyamory. I’m, like, Louise Fitzhugh’s, Harriet the Spy, as a 47 year-old sneaky link. I mean, I do love them all in some form or another. I don’t feel lonely. And I suppose that’s the whole point.
Errol and I went to see Jenny Lewis at The Eastern last night. On a Tuesday. And then hung out, after the show, smoking weed in Nana’s basement until 2 AM. No work shall be done today. But I’m here. Shit.
I kinda feel like I spent the last 8 years missing out on living and now I’m making up for lost time. I was alive while I was in the relationship, but I didn’t live adventurously.
Update: I’m doing stuff. And fucking a few people. Feeling pretty a-okay, if you will.
Would you take a goddamn look at this flattering picture myself took of myself?
I remain pleased. Except that I got Covid this week and now I’m working all weekend. But from the comfort of my own apartment in Nana’s basement.
Okay. I’m opening my laptop (for real this time).
A short list of Things I wouldn’t have predicted:
That living with Nana (the third time around) would be so effortless and sweet.
That being single suits me.
That my friendship with Mr. Mott would become paramount to my mental wellbeing.
my therapist’s waiting room
My Loves.
the one who won’t date me because I’m broke:
So she’s dating this lawyer:
it’s only been like a month since they met
And they’re already talking about getting MARRIED
But we’re having a sleepover 👀
Except I’m in the guest quarters of her house in Grant Park
And she’s upstairs in her room FaceTiming with The Lawyer
🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻
I’ve spent the last 8 months trying my best to feel better, but spending last week in the PNW with Jodi & Clare was the first time since The 2023 Memorial Day Porn Hub Incident™️ that I’ve felt so loved and comfortable. It’s done wonders for my sense of self-worth. I feel hopeful. It’s been awhile, you know? I love these two so goddamn much.
Snow.
Clare made us leave the house today. There were good rocks.
I had a falafel wrap.
ALSO, the dating pool is much larger and I am far less abhorrent to the women here, which is 2,173 miles away from Atlanta (based solely on Hinge activity).
I’m not moving away from Nana. But eventually, it will be time for me to leave the mother fucking south.
been stoned all day and cried a few times I’m a fun guest.
