I WRITE SO I CAN SEE/HEAR/SMELL/TASTE/FEEL/SING… MYSELF THINK

my own brand of weeeeiryrud

mashed taters and peeeeas — please — drawing by moi

I’m getting better at walking up to random people and just talking. It’s not that I used to be bad at it. I’m just doing it more now, and on purpose. Not that I’m trying to be a freakazoid. I’m just — as usual — feeling like there’s no time like the present so I might as well do things that I’ve always been scared to do. get a tattoo? Check. Do heroin? No thanks. There are some things I don’t ever want to do.

Anyway, point is that it’s time. Empty nest syndrome is coming to a close and I’m ready to start doing weird stuff. I’m not gonna (I know — not a word) wear totally ridiculous pant suits with my bra on the outside and wide brimmed, black rimmed glasses — although I don’t judge anyone who does — but my own brand of weird.

Whatever it is. drinking tea instead of coffee. writing words like ‘kinda’ and ‘gonna.’ humbly accepting that I never really know where an apostrophe goes in relation to a quotation mark. Fuck capital letters. selling my overly expensive guitar. selling my overly expensive but dinged and dented painted wooden bench. writing long sentences that every good writing teacher tells me I should cut to make more concise. making paragraphs full of lists. getting up in the morning and drinking too much coffee so that I’m almost…