Notes from a ferry, photos from a life

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Creative brain games. I'm tired but I want to write late at night rocking ferry frothing on the water. I want to wake up that part of my brain that does the things that make me giggle. Brain brine. Is that what wine is?

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Hey. That's cute.

You think you're so clever when you endeavor to drown out the inhibitory noises with your brain brine toys but when you end the night and sleep it off you'll wake up to find what's left of your creativity little more than a damp sock half-chewed by a bored dog.

That's why I don't really drink anymore. Kept ending up with single socks.

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The smoke out here is so thick that I can't see the land, can't see the islands, just see scattered fuzzy lights and their reflections like multicolored embers drifting through space.

Too bad you don't get to see that. You just get mountains. Pink mountains.

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I'm getting a root canal on Thursday and I'm wondering if the Wurlitzer in Japanese Breakfast is the one I sold so I could move out of the mold-ridden house next to the rotten-hearted abuse bucket of a man that I used to call my partner. Ask them if they had to scrape off a D.A.R.E. sticker from one of the legs.

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Yesterday at King's Market the chick at the checkout counter with the sparkle diamond eyeliner noticed my reusable H-Mart shopping tote and hugged it to her chest while she exclaimed the name of the store with glee. The next words out of her mouth were are you from Portland?

HOW DID SHE KNOW??!! Is it that obvious?

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I'd rather it be obvious that I was from Portland than from secret San Diego. The only people that get to know about secret San Diego are the ones that stick around.

Most people don't.

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I don't mind.


This is my entry for the #monomad challenge, held daily in the Black and White Community.
Give it a try.


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Notes from a ferry, photos from a life | Ecency