Feeling Fine

I absolutely adore being alone and fucked up. I sit quietly smoking cigarettes (!) and reflect on the weather, the city nightlife, my state of mind, my relationships and problems. I let myself laugh aloud at myself. The neighbors might think I'm nuts, but damn does it feel good. Due to the f'ed up part, neither time, weather, state of dress or undress or typical day to day problems impede on my mind. I just hang out...with myself.

I had one of these nights on Saturday and I feel better, clearer for it. These are my mind vacations, all for the affordable price of one cheap bottle of red wine. A deal if I must say so myself. (My preferred poison is either Yellowtail Merlot or Ecco Domani Merlot but it was Purple Moon Shiraz this time around.)

I went to Nesto's house, got cozy with him and apparently wore the poor guy out because he was out cold. While I was lying next to him, a light bulb flamed on, here it was, time for a mind vacation! I used the sneaky bed-exiting skills I've perfected on Lola, grabbed my wine, cigarettes and Nesto's leather jacket and headed for the porch. Sitting on wet chair, wearing a jacket sans anything else, I drank my wine and smiled at my mini revelations.

Here's a few I came across: Although I don't endorse slaughter of animals, certainly don't eat meat and probably never will again, I do like the weight of a good leather jacket.

Wisconsin springs are like a breath of fresh fucking air after WI winters. My Louisiana family was in town complaining of the chill while I was sighing with relief at the amazing lack of snow while half-nekked. Hooray.

I really like Nesto. Example of cuteness: He "raises" his own tomato plants from seeds and then transfers them to his backyard. Then, when his scandalous neighbors steal the fruit of his labor, he acknowledges the fact that "they're really good," and this seems to be an acceptable excuse for the thievery.

And finally: polishing off a bottle of wine by yourself on an empty stomach? Always a good thing. I feel fine.