Feeling a bit more relaxed over here. Living amongst murderers and thieves is indeed stressful, but that’s what it means to live in America and I have — at least temporarily — found my peace. Sans Xanax.
Today’s rain did it for me, washed away the angry thoughts. If only it would wash away the sick troublemakers, too. (You don’t suppose there is any truth to that Noah story, do you? One can dream and even, perchance, dare a wish.)
So instead of writing angry texts and posts, I am instead looking at pictures I took today. Aren’t they beautiful? Kind of? I am a sucker for pictures like this. Wet, ragged, once-urban landscapes touch my sweet spot. Although I think this might have once been a farm. I like to pretend it was once an asylum, but that sounds like I am trying too hard.
There was a little wildlife to be found, too. I saw a fox (quick little devil was faster than my camera) and a woodcock which was twice as fast as the fox. (Missed it, too.) So I took pictures of things a bit less nimble, things like trees, stone walls, and old, cracked sidewalks. I cold do this all day…and almost did.
She is destroying the calm easy ambiance of this place and that’s a pity. I have always enjoyed the cozy, friendly ambiance of this place. Tonight it sounds like a Klondike whorehouse. All is not lost, however, there is the beauty of the statuesque waitress/hostess/bartender. She shines brightly even on this night which crudeness darkens. We only need her, like a tired swimmer only needs a raft. The crass tackiness behind me will not ruin my visit. I will just pretend that I really wanted to eat in a room filled with a rafter of screeching turkeys and make the most of it. I won’t let this work me up. Nothing tonight will unsettle my calm, nothing will get me back to calling David Webb a nitwit or calling Jordana Green a….