I’d put the plastic bar thingy between her things and mine before getting lost in my head. And why was I lost in my head? I’d seen carrot cake on display on my way to the checkout line and had remembered that he likes carrot cake. Stupid little things you can’t forget, that.
“Did you get one of these too?” the customer lady in front of me asked suddenly.
I looked over at her and then down at what she was pointing at: a gigantic air filter.
“I did not,” I said, shaking my head.
She looked away suspiciously and I thought to myself, what are the chances that I’d be buying an air filter at the grocery store? I go to Lowes for that shit.
Anyways, I’d already returned to my thoughts when I suddenly heard: “Uh, THAT’S NOT MINE… NONE of that’s mine.”
I looked over to where the confused cashier was holding a pint of ice cream mid-air. It was mine. So were the bananas she’d just scanned and the kombucha she was about to scan.
I looked back at the customer (the one who’d asked about the air filter a minute ago) and she was giving me the STRANGEST look. Read that again: the STRANGEST look.
“I don’t wanna buy your stuff,” she said slowly — her voice low and murder-y while she held my gaze.
I was too a. confused and b. caught off guard and c. SCARED to say anything at first but finally mustered: “I don’t want you to…” BECAUSE I DIDN’T!! Hence the bar thingy!
It was awkward as hell and I told my roommates about it when I got home. We were all confused as well as intrigued by it.
I also mentioned to them that, by the end of her transaction, the lady seemed to be suddenly aware of her affect because she handed a quarter to the cashier and said, loud enough for me and the person behind me to hear, that the cashier should give it to someone in need.
Still missing that stinkin guy, btw (the carrot cake one). I didn’t text him for days and then I did and then my friend Rodger, when I told him, just shook his head at me, saying nothing. This was when we were eating Indian food at lunch today; I’d gone and texted the guy yesterday.
“I sent him an exclusive AND FUN coffee pic and told him I was thinking about him and that I hoped he was doing well and all he said was beautiful pic, happy to hear from you.” I shrugged and sighed deeply, scooping up another bite of some curried cauliflower thing. It was delicious. “Oh well.”
“Stop,” Rodger said, and I think that was all he said about it. But he thinks I should move on, drink at home, and quit going for the sad addict type… he pretty much said these other things in-between his own bites of some cream-of-wheat-and-sweet-potato thing.
What I’d like to say to Mr. Heartbreaker Man: If you don’t want me, I don’t want you to… I wish I could say this to him as emphatically as I said it to the crazy lady at Publix and then get on with things, with things like school and work and adventures and Tycho, but if I’m being honest (and I always try to be), I always wish and hope that they’ll want me back.
And I got off the app last week because I was overwhelmed with pictures and bios and had realized that I prefer meeting people IRL, yes, but also because I didn’t really want anyone other than him (and still don’t). Which is good, I guess… he’s helping me remain single pre-crazy school semester. And I guess it’s nice wanting HIM for a change instead of ancient-history-we-aren’t-gonna-talk-about. Annnnnnyways…
I’ve had two sophisticated alcoholic beverages and three curious dreams this week — sharing the most interesting one (+ pics of both drinks) below.
I was downstairs in the basement of a home I don’t know and talking on the phone with someone when three slender shapes appeared in front of me — moving forward, walking toward me. I knew right away, from the other side of this window, that they were bad.
I turned around quickly and through a glass door I saw a hand, heard a crack: they were already coming inside.
The next thing I knew I was in another room holding something — heart steady, three bodies on the floor. My friends and family were walking through the house, saying they’d slayed their demons and sounding relaxed, and I thought to myself, still gripping some kind of weapon with my hands: “How do they think they only have one?” I had three on the floor and KNEW there were others.
The end. In closing, I’m leaving you with a poem I wrote this morning while waiting for my latte. Fun fact: “Winnebago” entered my mind without me even knowing what it WAS (thought it was a city or a country — googled the word later on and I was wrong). Calling this one zeta.
i haven’t been
as much as when
inside, from here to end
what i just said
i‘ll get it back
to think on that
me think on that
on your brown couch
inside your mouth
inside your mouth
inside your mouth
it’s over now
those feelings down
que podria ponerlos bajo!
really though, i wish i could
so i’ll just sit
and drink my coffee
how you don’t like me
that you don’t want me
ex-cess al-co-hol yeah
letra zeta holla
Still here — cheers.