Tonight is the sort of night where I feel a bit rambly, a little unconscious. I'm sitting at my kitchen table in pokemon shorts and a soft, old t-shirt emblazoned with the name of the town of Bad Axe, Michigan. I am sucking a little on the right hand ring finger where the rough grip of a dumbbell wore a little raw patch as I gripped it too tightly. I'm eating a gross salad of kale, tofu, and chic peas--which is to say my body is craving something or other. (Protein?) I should be blow-drying my hair and preparing for sleep, but I'm enjoying all this instead.

The Bad Axe shirt belong to my father, who spent some mismanaged teenaged years in that town with his brothers and sister. I've had the shirt as long as I can remember, long ago enough that I remember being afraid to wear it as anything other than a sleep shirt, because "Bad Axe" sounded so uncouth and rude to my eleven year old ears. I knew it wasn't a swear word, but it surely had to be in the next category over because it just sounded so bad.

Quinlan men have always been tall, with large shoulders, but very narrow-waisted, even at the peak of their athletic careers. My father was a college football star, but never wore larger than a 32 or 33. Still, 27 years later, my mom will still go on about his musculature, even the size of his elbows. Anyway, all this to say is that it makes a very odd-fitting shirt for a tall, gangly girl like me. But it's soft and comfortable.

I do feel gangly tonight--sprawling, like my legs are too long to keep under my body so I have to prop them up on the chair or the table leg. They look all banged up--a weekend of moving around. The moon is.... somewhere... the moon is slipping out of Leo and heading into Virgo, the sign of my dumb little heart. I suppose that's the current status for tonight, the last night of June.

Inventories

Items purchased today:

bread
lemons
limes
book on the tarot
handsoap
White unders with heart stitched on the front
Bourbon ginger shrug (subpar)
the prettiest dress

Current mood: savage

Crossed by: the Ace of Wands

Lipstick: savage

Color: fuchsia (red + pain)

Planet:  Felucia (in retrograde)

Brief Description of the day: As I crossed the railroad tracks onto the downtown mall, I saw lots of girls in nice dresses. I was not one of them, in my sunglasses and ill-fitting shoes. I felt like a spy, into my own past, and the presence of other people. The man who asks me for change and calls me sweetie, the term of affection used by both my father and the significantly-younger-than-me hipster who runs the convenience store by my work.The pretty couple across the street.  I thought about a lot of the other times I had been there. It was hot but not sticky, which is unusual in Virginia. My shoulders burnt a little.

At current: I do feel tired and forgettable. It smells like cookout outside. A run would serve me well, or a better bourbon, but I'll probably take the run.* Do you ever have these moments like you need to explain something inarticulate? That was today, I guess. Not that it was even a bad day. I just feel the tightness of something else.

*Edit: the run was good, and it wasn't cookout, it was fireworks.

When I killed her, it was so easy that I wanted to kill her again

Today is a bad day. It's a bad day for reasons both inside and outside of my control. I feel helpless and stupid both. I say this not to feel sorry for myself, or loathe myself, (although I am engaging in a little of those both) but rather, to explain why I'm needing to post pictures of Aayla Secura and Quinlan Vos that I have looked up in between sales person moderating and descriptions of PivotTables today. I'm not an expert at Excel Advanced, but I am pretty good at Star Wars and crying in the bathroom at work.

I like several things about this, despite the fact that it's not the most flattering of Vos. I like the hench-dudes sort of in the middle of comic-book-esque flying backward. I like that they both seem mid Force-push. I like how there aren't any PivotCharts in it. 

Calories for Tuesday, June 24th so far

Haven't done this in a while, but I've been picking up a bit with the exercise, so I should remember to eat.


1 pint blueberries -229
ancient grains granola-250
lentil soup-186
slice of chocolate cake- 352


3:46 pm:  1017

two fried eggs: 184
biscuit: 49
sausage: 80
two peaches: 118
two beers: 308

1756?

Seems a little weird... the sausage was a small patty, but both that and the eggs seem like they should be worth more. I mean,  the blueberries were worth more. Good to keep track of, I guess.

2 posts today and counting?

[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in]

BY E. E. CUMMINGS

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

                                                      i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

(I'm trying to memorize this.)

Oh, a cool thing that happened this weekend was that a random old guy at a solstice festival just handed me a baby monkey. Out of the blue. Despite growing up with a lot of weird animals, I've never interacted with a primate before so closely. The fact that she wanted to make so much sustained eye contact was really jarring from an animal.

I feel tired and inarticulate after what was a productive, domestic day. I'm just waiting for the sheets to dry so I can crash into bed. It feels a little cool now after the heat of the last week--good sleeping weather. I'm wearing green leggings, a robe, and a giant puffy blanket. My legs feel a little tired. The trees over Afton were very green, easing into their summer jade out of the frostier spring shades.

fruits

This was the only thing my garden produced this year besides some shitty herbs. Sorry for a weird lefthand shot, but observe how my nail polish oddly matches the fruit.

 

Strawberry fruit born under a strawberry moon.

 

I ate it. It was wonderful. My bad side, tan, pre-weeding in my jungle garden.

 

Here are some posts I'm gonna make in the next weekend to a week:

Morning routine post

Exercise post

Calorie post

A post about that time I was in the tornado

Post about dumb dresses I won't buy

Reasons why I love/hate tornados

Post about paragraphs of stuff

Year End Post (as if)

 

But seriously! This weekend will be something. You don't even know how many poems I've resisted posting.

 

I signed up for a 5k!

it was the only thing holding me up, holding me up

I have this bizarre trembly feeling in my chest, like I might go from reasonable calm jokey measuredness to uncontrollable sobbing. I don't think I'm going to, but just that I feel I could. That little under-the-skin quiver. This week, man.