Posts Tagged ‘bed time’

Up Past My Bed Time

July 16, 2016

But, oh, so don’t give a fuck.

The dancing.

It was so worth it.

Spectacular.

Although.

I have to say, the crowd, the kids, the young, entitled didn’t come for the music, but came for the see and be seen and don’t know who the dj is but I’m going to dance in front of him and make out with my friends even though he asked us to get off the stage, crowd, was not a crowd I’m much a fan of.

That being said.

I danced hard and long.

Three hours.

No.

Scratch that, three and a half hours.

Solid.

Didn’t really move, well, I moved, but I didn’t move much from the spot I was in most of the night.

I texted my people.

I said where I was at.

I stashed my purse and coat underneath the dj booth.

The benefit of getting to the show a little early is not just having a nice prime spot up front, but also, usually some decent access to a set of speakers or a turn table set up.

I hid my shit underneath the dj’s coffin and checked it once.

Sent back a couple of text messages, I’m up front, and left the phone in the purse and forget, well, I didn’t forget it, but I was pretty happy and at ease and with my friends and my school chums and also a sort of date, we both happened to be at the show and casually bumped into each other and he bought me a water and it was cute.

I haven’t been out in a while.

Some things change.

Some things stay the same.

My knees are older.

I can’t drop it like it’s hot.

Fuck.

I can’t drop it like it’s lukewarm anymore.

But I can still shake my hips and shimmy and have a great big happy smile on my face and get right with God.

God is music.

Didn’t you get the memo?

I got a right proper smile, a mouthed thank you, and the nod from the first dj after he finished his set.

The same one who was ignoring the trio of oddly self-fixated girls that were trying way too hard to be sexy and wound up looking too much like a promo ad for a cheap smelling sex lube.

I mean.

I’m sorry ladies.

Yes.

You have beautiful bodies, but there’s so much more to living than that, it’s fleeting, it’s never going to be what you want and then it’s gone and you haven’t grown your heart or your soul.

I actually felt sorry for them after I got over being in judgement.

I like who I am.

I love being sexy, don’t get me wrong, but I think I am sexy because I am comfortable with who I am and also, I have no actual grasp on what I look like.

I sort of get lost in my own head and forget who I am.

I am just this body, this heart, this amalgamation of parts walking around housing a soul that loves to be light and joyous.

I’m not always.

That’s not sustainable.

But, oh, when the music is good and I’m in it.

I’m really in it.

“I knew we would find you here!” One of my darling girlfriends said as they arrived to greet me with hugs and love and squeals of happy that we were all out on a Friday after an atrociously busy week.

All of us know exactly what a big deal it is at this point in our lives to carve out time to go and do what we did.

Dance at a club in San Francisco.

It’s no big deal.

And yet.

It’s a huge deal.

I’ve officially thrown my schedule way off whack just by getting home at 2 a.m.

I have things to do tomorrow, people to see, coffee to drink, doing the deal to get done.

And yoga?

I mean.

Not sure that I’ll be going to the 9 a.m. class which is usual Saturday morning deal.

But I do want to go.

Although not necessarily for the exercise, I got plenty of that, but to keep the momentum going and also because my work hours will switch back to 10a.m-6p.m. next week, meaning no more yoga before work.

I’ll probably get in one class in the evening and have to do classes again next weekend.

Tomorrow, should the coffee date not go great, and who knows, dude hasn’t confirmed that we’ll be meeting, I may just do an afternoon yoga class.

Then again.

My brain just might wake me up and say, get on with your day and don’t muck with your sleep schedule.

All in all.

Luxury problems.

Truly.

I am super grateful to have gotten through the week, ask for what I needed at work, spend some very sweet time with the boys, and thank God, make it through without getting any serious crazy.

Really, though it was a long week, it went by fast and I’m already looking toward next week and hey, lady, stay here.

Stay in this moment.

Feel your body.

My body, which could use a snack, I burned up some calories, I broke a good hard sweat.

A mind that needs to process the goop and the gack and the random thoughts of weirdness and throw them out here on the page so that I can retire with a clear head and sleep the sleep of the just.

And also.

Sleep the sleep of the person who has been told they can borrow a blow up mattress for the event, Burning Man, man, I’m always working that in somewhere, and also the nice rest of knowing that I do have a tent, and a good tent at that, lined up and a place to camp with friends.

The ride there is slowly working it’s way out.

We shall see what happens.

And my bicycle is being handled.

Really, it’s all coming together.

I just can’t quite see it yet, but as I told a friend earlier today in a message, once you make the decision to go and get the ticket, the rest just falls into place.

It always does.

It always has.

Good and dreamy and sweet.

Just like how I feel right now in my danced out skin.

Night all.

See you on the flip.

Sleepy Time Girl

February 12, 2014

I have no idea why so tired.

Just is.

The herbal tea is not helping, but at 8:45 p.m. at night I am not about to go snorgle up some caffeine, as much as it appeals, I don’t want to have monkey mind as I try to fall asleep.

Which might be why I am tired tonight.

That or possibly that my littlest guy today only napped 40 minutes and was so active and engaged and boy that I am just wore out.

Not got a thing that is insightful to say or think or be.

I just want to blog and go watch True Detective.

I downloaded it from Sunday, but haven’t finished watching the latest episode.

It is damn skippy good.

I may possibly have a cold as well, but I fail to acknowledge you cold, you are dead to me, there is no spoon, I tell you.

Just got off a chat with a friend back in Wisconsin who was wondering when I was going to be coming for a visit and I was editing his short story for him while getting some messages and was just smacked by the tired.

I think I was pretty nice about it.

He’s a great writer, and it’s a privilege to be asked to help someone out.

I have had a lot of people help me out with my writing.

Even when I have not got clue one how to do it or where to go with it, or why I am still doing.

Oh, habit, I suppose.

But there is more to it than that.

I do generally find my way to some sort of insight or idea, sometimes I will be able to work out something that may be in the back of my mind and I have to write it out before it will reveal itself.

Sometimes, like tonight, I have not a clue one what I am going to write about.

I could write about waking up last night, smiling (I wake up more and more smiling, that suggestion really is an interesting one, often it feels like there is an alien skin mask over my face, it doesn’t feel like a smile, it feels like a grimace, but hey, I will try just about anything once), and looking out the window of the door, which though screened with a bamboo roll up curtain, at night without lights on, the light comes in.

I saw the moon, swathed with clouds, just dropping over the edge of the houses behind the yard and I could envision, in that moment, the path of moon light on the ocean and I felt compelled to get up and walk down to the beach.

I didn’t.

I went pee and crawled back into bed.

But some day, I think I may, just wake up, see that moon as it descends its final bow for the evening into the black inky water.

Who’s that girl?

And why is she up at this hour of the night?

I see myself slipping out of the house, shrouded in late evening mist, walking barefoot to the sea.

That is total romantic fantasy.

Nothing is getting me up out of bed at some wee hour of the morning to walk barefoot down to the ocean.

I mean no guy is that cute.

I drifted back off to sleep, though, thinking about that moon and the sea and being adrift in the white light prickling over the landscape.

I could write about sitting in a chair and drifting in and out while waiting for the hour to go by and being nearly asleep, nodding close, when I heard, “there is a solution” so loud and clear and ringing that I snapped awake.

I mean, I heard nothing else, nothing to preface it, nothing to follow it.

It was like red neon light in my brain, the way the words sounded, like a marquee billboard on an old movie theater in a small town square at night, see I’m back to wandering the streets at night by myself.

I look up to see red letters saying that out loud in all caps on a white marquee board.

The movie theater would smell like stale popcorn and the tile mosaic of the floor would shimmer in the light of the moon and I would drift by.

Or I could write about how I felt absolutely nothing.

NOTHING.

When riding my bicycle home tonight.

I did not feel uncomfortable, I did not feel hurried, I felt no pricking of my thumbs to slow my roll or to watch out for feral parking crazies looking for a spot to swoop across the lanes of traffic.

It was the mellowest ride home I have had in weeks.

It was so silent in my brain, I contemplated the movement of my legs propelling the crank forward, the muscles in my legs expanding and contracting, the perfect circle of spinning and the slide of my body through the cool air.

I realized about the time that I had gotten to 17th or so that I had not had one weird feeling or awkward moment.

I laughed in my head and thought, this, then is when it happens.

But it doesn’t.

There is no spoon.

I could write about how I don’t care if I have a boyfriend or not after the exhausting overheard conversation I heard between a man and woman arguing as they walked down the street.

Jesus.

I am tired from the snippet I heard.

Too tired to even remember what they were saying, except that it was inane and full of contrary logic.

I could write about so many things, shoes and ships, sealing wax, cabbages, and kings.

I won’t though.

I am just about wrote out.

Still tired and ready to finish my episode of True Detective.

Check back with me tomorrow for a more scintillating episode of “Carmen”.

I will be well rested.

Promise.


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