...a mad mix of crazy

My word for the day is splashy.

Walking a kid’s pace from the Chinese place with the sign of spray-painted letters. White on black. I wanted sweet and sour, and yet I add salt. Is this guy trying to sell me something, and if so, what the hell is it? It’s not fuzzy ear muffs. I should buy those for my mom, though. I long for the smell of the book store. Coffee and paper. Warmth, like lying belly-down on a hot electric blanket.

If spice were a sound, would it hurt my ears like it hurts my mouth?

Cheesy fucking pizza bread is delicious.

I feel out of step. Out of sync. Out of tune. Out of control. I need to just stop. Stop. Stop… Step back. Relax. Breathe. See a show. A show of hands.

Who here needs a taxi?

{{{raises hand}}}

Massive flower structures. A wicked wonderland of petallic proportions! Colors and flavors and one annoying man. Yes, you’ve told me that the guy was a hot dog vendor on Law & Order. Did I just hear him say he has a cock ring?!? What kind of garden is this? Obviously built by a lawyer.

A hillbilly band plays in the background somewhere above my head.

That woman looks like Michelle Pfeiffer. Impossibly beautiful. Perfumed with insecurity. Sickly sweet. A scent coloring her cheeks. I adore her. And her ability to pick out the raisins unconsciously. “I don’t like raisins,” she says. Nature’s candy. How often do we eat what we don’t really like?

I feel splashy and childlike in a grown-up evening. A generically romantic environment, sans romance.

Glen the white-coat bartender comps us Godiva deliciousness in a glass. And strawberries with whipped cream. A student of radiation medicine. A piano fit for Casablanca. The stunning creature to my left doesn’t even give him her name. And such a glorious name! Antoinette!! What color will the echo be if I yell that name out into the cold night. She shares with me a few of her secrets. I like her, too. I am no competition, I guess, but it doesn’t bother me. I get invited, included! Who needs a better offer?

This Chinese food is mediocre at best. How can there be no croissants? And I didn’t ask for turkey! And where is my damn fortune cookie?!?

I gamble. I lose. I shrug. It’s not the first time. It won’t be the last. I finally find sleep. But it’s not what I want.

We should be able to need what we want.

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