Floofy is a word that should have been said before. By someone not me. Probably was. That person doesn't seem to know anyone that I do, though. I suppose that's a good thing. Can you imagine if there were more than just one of me (or any of my acquaintance, for that matter) running around this town? Yep. It would be good. But oh so wrong.
The newspapers would report incidents of road rage between thirtysomething men trying to out-punk each other with their radios, comparing trophy tattoos. The reporter with the state legislature beat would be proficient in many dialects of international sign language, able to distinguish the Beer from the Sandwich because of how they mime the concept of bread.
And yes, there would be pop-up shrines in the desk drawers of my co-workers. One specifically. It would be a vision of connected cords and coding with an altar for the daily offering of chocolate to the goddess Pandora. (not a deity, I know, that's not the part that is the joke, trust me)
There would be a strip mall wherein a shopper could find such businesses as "Where Do You Want To Go?" a bar with a busy drug trade in the alley, "I Don't Care" adult toys and gifts, "Somewhere Different" a sandwich shop specializing in soup, "Like Where?" the hobby store (with jigsaw puzzles made of wood!), "I Don't Care II" for mom-to-be and baby, "Fine, We'll Just Stay Home" your specialty and whole food grocery store. I would love it there. actually, I wouldn't hang out at that strip mall, I'd be too busy hanging out at the one across the street specializing in obvious (un-ironic) store names: laundry, books, pizza, beverages, newspapers & magazines, quiet place for reading or fucking, cell phone friendly plaza - you know, the kind of stores that only have exactly what the name says they do. Of course, I would complain endlessly about the lack of maps in the book store and why there are no newsletters at the newspaper & magazine store, and the fact that you couldn't get a t-shirt if you stole it out of someone else's laundry basket, But I'm okay with that. And hey, free condoms in the reading place! Score.
It occurred to me the other day that I wasn't in the mood to complain. I was concerned for a moment. It didn't last long, sometimes moods just hit and there's really nothing you can do about them but relax and breathe and wait for some schmo to fuck up your morning by feeling the need to have a 'conversation' over coffee and a cigarette. Whanyeh?! I don't like to 'talk' that early, especially not with cleverness and caring - ew.
As to my whining earlier this afternoon - imagine the squeaking of metal parts in my brain just trying to work their way through a slightly changed routine - not much of a change, but enough to be noticeable. Floofy, my ass.
Oh, in case anyone else is keeping track - 4 incidents of deja vu in the last 2 days. None of them particularly layered or inspiring, just, you know, freaking me out again. Dreams of driving. Kind of miss the dreams of water. I liked those. And the caves. Those were neat, too.
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