Well, I lost it. No palm trees? Fuck this.
A person has the option to be walking around in a place with palm trees. It's a decision. It's not hard. You just stand up wherever you are, and start walking toward where the palm trees are. I'm severely affected by poor weather, and the air has been gray and saturated for days. Driving through Philadelphia just makes me wonder why ANYBODY would EVER choose to be here when the climate has the capacity to do this. It got to me. No wonder everybody is getting shot in the face around here.
I sat shotgun in Kristin's little beat-up car, and I got confused and angry at myself for being here. I'm miserable and I'd like to disappear. It's the weather. With a sliver of sunlight, I'd be okay. With a strong exposure to sunlight, I might even sprout or bloom. Right now I'm nothing. I'm a dead branch, and I barely care if I hit anybody on my way down.
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I'm a reasonably pampered white kid (57 years old) and sitting next to Christine in her beat up old Subaru. I'm freaking out because I used my debit card to pay for my tomato juice and the numbers didn't work and toby, the 2 year old puppy, won't get in back because daisy, the mean old lady dog is growling and being territorial. Christine, who has no mental health issues, sits sadly and calmly while I screech about what went wrong in LA and how death by cop sounds like a viable option later and how the fucking VA won't listen and fuck these palm trees and who wants to get old anyway?
Later, sans meds, I will put vodka into the poorly purchased tomato juice and tiredly punch the numbers on my five dollar land line. She will answer because she always does and that is why the cops will have one less dreadful and dramatic report to fill out tonight.
tj
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