bee longing lounge pant

It’s another day here on Earth with all you fine-and-dandy-like-cotton-candy-folks.

I felt like typing into this particular text box first.  I’ve got a YouTube video of 3 hours of cello music “for writing” to sort of keep my ears busy while the rest of my mind-body does its thing.  Hey, there was a pluckier non-cello insrument in there!  *shakes head*

I’m changing the track because this one is distracting me instead facilitating my flow.  There was an ad for “Mattress Firm” but my ears heard “Mattress Sperm” instead and it made me *shudder*-giggle.  I changed to a track that’s just got the ol’ classic cello stuff goin’ on.  Makes me feel like I’m in the waiting area of the psychotherapist that I went to in middle school after I remembered the sexual trauma I suffered at the hands of that babysitter that I had as a child while in the car on one of our family road trips (I mean the memory came roaring back to me while we were in the car, not that the abuse happened in the car, I still sobbed and sobbed as if it had been actively going on as if all that I wasn’t letting myself feel gave me what-for).

But yeah, the psychotherapist’s name was Duncan MacMaster, and he was this giantly tall wizard of a man with such a sweet and calming presence.  We talked about it all, and I put it into terms that I could get out of my mouth at that age (using phrases like “entered me”) and I cried and cried and it was that sort of out-of-body cry that I am able to remember today because my brain has made me remember it while writing.  He had a stroke some time during my brain shtuff (I think, it’s hard to place when it happened in time because not even my mom can remember) and we’re both fairly certain that he’s passed away but neither of us can remember when.

Where was going with any of this?

I continued my daily phone-call streak with Shannon today.  Like I think I’ve pointed out in a previous entry (or in one of my other writing spaces, who knows?  not me!) that we have used our voices to talk to each other on the phone every single day since November 29th of last year.  It’s all so very chill, too, like she has a lot to say a lot of the time so I tend to listen and react appropriately, and I’ll speak when I feel like I have something to say and she’ll usually seem to enjoy what I have to say so that makes me smile and it’s all just something that I am very much enjoying.  With zero pressure to make it anything that it isn’t yet and just take every moment as it comes.

Oh!  The entirety of Pee-Wee’s Playhouse is on freakin’ YouTube!  I’m sure this isn’t a surprise to most, but I was so giddy to find it in my perusing the interwebs today.  I don’t know why I didn’t find it when Paul Reubens passed, but whatever, I was supposed to find it today so I did.  And Laurence Fishburn!  It was such a mind-bogglingly cool thing to see freakin’ Morpheus being Cowboy Curtis!  I can’t believe I forgot about that tidbit of most-probably-common-knowledge.

So the lessons of today?  Tears are important and speaking honestly and relaxedly is also important.

And animated lassoes.

The word of the day is “door.”