Monk playing piano helps smooth things out during difficult weeks.
I realized the other day that the week is my basic unit of time. I think in terms of weekdays and weekends, and what happens on what days. I really do not notice months or years. Could this be a problem?
I’m not sure I like being at D’s very much lately. The patio atmosphere means that I never actually have a conversation with one person, even when I really need to. Someone else always shows up and it’s time to tell jokes or tell work stories instead of whatever happens. Or someone more important than me shows up and I feel small. It’s high school.
I haven’t smoked in a couple days and I don’t really notice that. This seems good to know that I enjoy smoking but it doesn’t seem to be a constant requirement. Same with alcohol. Haven’t wanted any, haven’t had any for a bit.
The Rickie Lee Jones song “Satellites” keeps popping into my head, as does “The Kids Are All Right” by the Who.
If I had what you wanted, I’d give it to you, you know. You do know, don’t you?