On the Bus...

So, here's a breakthrough...

I'm on the bus. Listening to my music. Fiona Apple to be precise and then Architecture in Helsinki and then The Real Tuesday Weld...and a man sits next to me. A good looking man. Dressed all in his black sweater and black pin-striped pants. And there's me. Jeans, birks, bandana, hair in braids, and leather jacket (not as a fashion statement but in case it got cold)...looking like a refugee from some Harley/Hippie convention/love-in, thinking:

"I miss him." The Douche.
"What the hell happened? We used to have so much fun together"
Looking out over the lake:
"Rides to work were awesome. He used to hold my hand..."
"Why do I still feel this way? Does it mean there's something more I can do? Am I obsessing? Goddamnit this is exactly the kind of shit that distracts me from the rest of my life..."
"Wait. Hold on. Why AM I feeling this way all of a sudden right this second?"
"What does he represent?"
"Well, he represents everything about myself that I'm not comfortable with."
"Right. And what's you feeling uncomfortable about yourself just now?"
"Holy shit...."
"That's right. Mr. Pin-Stripes. Yes, he's very good looking and you are dressed like a hobo today. Big Goddamned deal. You're an artist. You're supposed to dress like that... Hey, look, he has a Nano! Guess What? So do you. HEY he doesn't have a case for his, you do. His is going to get all scratched up. How dumb of him. So, see? You're smarter AND cooler than him, now knock it off."

And that voice, Ladies and Gents, was the voice of reason. The voice that sounds like a bizarre combination of my mother and Ms. LK. It's a very comforting sort of voice. It's the only voice surlier than my own...

I don't miss HIM. I'm longing for feeling good about myself. Not all the time, but times when it's triggered.
I am goddamned brilliant.

Now, what I wouldn't do for some thunder today...