So, I don’t get out of the bunker much, by personal choice, unless it’s not my choice. But both Saturday and Sunday I was doing stuff and I had to go out. I was in a parking lot of a local establishment two days in a row, and on one of those days, I spotted someone who looked almost exactly like one of my virtual friend’s profile pictures on her blog. I was going to wax poetic about it, but I decided to dispense with the fluff and just get it out. That means a poem for tomorrow if I can focus long enough to get it out, on something completely unrelated.
At least one of my blogger friends lives the next town over away from the bunker, I guess that’s not too far away when you consider that she’s likely less than 35 miles away from me. With that kind of potential proximity, it is very possible that it was her. But I doubt it, and if it was her, I’m not sure if I want to know. Honestly, it would scare the crap out of me.
I like my safe-feeling anonymity, plus, when you’re as irresistible as I am (writing it from habit, not actual feeling today) you always have to be on guard against temptation, and seeing as you all are irresistible too, that makes things twice as difficult.
The world as we know it could come to an end. Or, this: http://www.space.com/33176-gravitational-waves-from-second-black-hole-collision.html
Anyway, if you saw me, you probably don’t remember the event: I waved and probably gave a surprised then nearly comprehending then panicked expression and almost hoped you would stop so I could ask the vision of loveliness if it were you.
Laugh it up. Mrs M. would have a fit if I brought you home with me, and I totally would, because she’s not to be missed. In some ways that would be fucking awesome, but in others… life is pretty much complicated enough, especially this week. The explanations would probably be awkward, but Mrs M would take it all in stride and hide her fury until you left, whereupon I might wake up with a chef’s knife between my left ribs, or dissecting worse places. I still have waaay too much shit to do to deal with that kind of distraction, but I probably would have figured out how to set it aside or delay it or make it ride a tandem bicycle with me, so the distance would be covered and so we could at least have a coffee and a chat face to face.
I’m a real person, or at least I think I am. But it’s also possible this is all just a long dream that sometimes feels like a nightmare and I’m a figment of your collective imaginations. And mine.
I’m certainly not feeling manic but I’m going to pretend I am for all I’m fucking worth until the week is over. So much to do, so little energy to keep track of it all, much less actually accomplish it. Ugh. Yeah, I listened to a song on a friend’s blog and I got it, in her contextual intent, and it made me cry the same as her. Still pretty tender. People are still “encouraging” me in their ways, by which I mean they either don’t know or they’re in denial, and they live basically demanding that I accomplish according to their expectations and function according to their definitions of “normal,” and I still can’t, medication notwithstanding.
OK I’m off to try to finish something or somethings, and fix something, and clean something, and hopefully not break anything.
Here’s hoping my vivid imagination and brilliant acting talent can pull it all off.
I’m not avoiding you. I’m just hiding.
Holy shit. I think that was actually funny. I AM a DAMN FINE ACTOR.