Cookies

I will eat all of your cookies. I will eat all of the cookies. Cookies are my true vice and weakness. Smoking? Sex? Nothing compared to cookies. Now I’m not talking about some fucking out-of-the-package Oreo bullshit. I’m talking about homemade cookie goodness. If you put one on a plate in front of me and told me that if I ate it I would instantly be killed, I would eat the damn cookie and die in bliss.

This is why spirit did not want me to go skiing today, because then I would have missed Joe’s fresh-out-of-the oven homemade chocolate chip cookie goodness and watching the rest of season four of Weeds, but now I want to eat all the rest of the cookies. Or I would like some hummus and pita bread. I would love to just gorge myself on hummus. But alas, this gratification will have to be deferred until tomorrow because it is 8 p.m. on a Sunday night in Mt. Shasta. I don’t know where I could find hummus and pita bread at such an hour. A lovely massive hero sub would be nice too. I am really hungry. I did not like the spaghetti I made for lunch really and the yogurt for dinner, while reasonably tasty, just did not fill the bill.

Also. What’s the deal with the spaceships? They are not satellites. They are not traffic helicopters. One could almost be convinced that they were stars or planets, until you notice that split second beam of white or blue or red light that makes you wonder if you’ve really lost it, or really have ascended to some alternate reality. You begin to wonder if you yourself appear as a ghost to everyone else. Oh, ahha! That’s why I don’t have any friends. I’m too dense for the humans to perceive me. When they move, then there’s no denying it.

Dear Universe: I would like a permanent job, the one I applied for at Mad River would be swell. I would like a lover to surpass all the expectations I have in place because of Ken. I would like Teagan to start going to the bathroom in the toilet so that he can go to school in the fall. Even if he is no longer my responsibility I find it embarrassing that his mother has been unable to potty train him. If it is an oppositional defiance thing because I left, then please let his father get custody of him and come home next fall. If he is actually developmentally delayed, please let someone intervene and get him the help he needs. Please let me remember to get stuff like ketchup and mayo tomorrow.

See, I was remembering how Ken used to entertain me with music. +smiles fondly+ I need to be entertained by someone that enthusiastic about music.

Aaron said, “Why do you even think about shit like that?” When I told him why I couldn’t sleep with the door open because the house I grew up in as a child had been built over a house that had burned down and if the door was open I would lay down and get visions of flames coming up the stairs. After he left the apartment in Dunsmuir, it got so hot in July that I finally got over that weird quirk. I still miss him. Isn’t that stupid? I wish that if I go to Colorado when I get promoted that I will just run into him in Fort Collins and he will forgive me for whatever I did and we will have both matured to a point for it to all work. I do believe in miracles. I woke up this morning, and that was the fantasy in my head, because I have a feeling that I am going to be going to Colorado before I land a permanent job, maybe even this summer on travel, but just going out after work and he’s there. Rather than ignoring me, he’s still wounded and alone and something just moves him to speak to me. He asks me how I am, how things are going. He apologizes, even though I feel I was the insensitive one, because I just cannot get that week in May out of my head.

Steve tells me I think too much.

I need more.

Are you listening?