MIMOSAS FOR ONE

  As I enter the record shop, I search for the fresh arrivals bin.   Sometimes the owner...I assume...small record shops usually don’t have many employees...anyhow, sometimes they are friendly, often times they’re aloof. Look, I get it. You don’t know me, and I’ve seen people window shop for 30 minutes, leaving empty handed.  I don’t window shop for records. I will take a quick pass. Quickly surveying for familiar artists, coveted titles, interesting covers. Then I will settle in for a second more in depth dig. Every section checked over at least twice. And please tell me you have a listening station.  Once selections have been made, I approach the register, a sense of accomplishment and giddy enthusiasm overtaking me. These precious babies are mine. After an often pleasant exchange, I walk out the door. I shop around because I want to spread the love. I have my favorites, and some of them know me, but variety is the spice of bankruptcy.  What you don’t see: I’m afraid I have an addict

  As i coast the slope of the street  I look toward the sunset I try to find the street between the stop signs I’ve circled the blocks where the parking is free where I can see the water just as I crest the ridge along the muni track I see a block  Where I can get a good cup of coffee Where I can still get a meal under $10, cash only please And that one place where owner has become my friend I see a new store has opened that sells nothing I can afford I see a small brewery that I like despite gentrification Give me a cafe where the special is served on Tuesday Give me a movie theater with a neon marquee Give me a bar where the jukebox still takes quarters I can’t afford to live there but visit often comfort is a deep breath of salted air

 2014 was a big year.  After living in a great studio apartment with high ceilings and a neat walk in closet, a pool that felt semi private, and little patio I never used much, I moved.  I was invited to join one of my best friends and a few other like minded folks in a dream home in San Francisco’s West Portal neighborhood. Aside from a few generically tense & frustrating roommate moments, it was the most wonderful experience, and I adored living in San Francisco. It has my whole heart, and given the opportunity to return, I would in a Muni Minute (OK, maybe not the best comparison, but I’m not a New York gal) Once the home disbanded in 2018, I returned to my childhood home in San Jose to regroup and contemplate the future...quite possibly out of the Bay Area. I settled into a familiar if not totally comfortable routine. I had a steady job that paid me more than I had been making at a Theatre Company that I loved, but was working me ragged, to the point where anxiety and exhaustio

allegedly the villian of roger and hamerstein's "The Sound of Music", the only thing I feel when I see her is envy. That wardrobe! That Style! Girlfriend was fierce and knew when to make her exit.

Today I took step in the right direction and became reacquainted with my own reflection The person I am and the person I was Met face-to-face for the first time in a long time No hiding. No chiding. This is my fresh start. time to aim, point, and throw the dart. Bullseye! My hand over my heart This challenge to me is my own , and this time, ill go it alone. To reclaim the throne. I am queen. ruler of one, and only by mine own hand shall I be reborn.

I use my full name. Does it throw you off? The power of my tower you'll never fully understand. I use my full name. Formal not normal. One of my favorite sounds, even if it makes you shorter than comfortable, I use my full name. As it will always be. No man or child, No pain or distance. We shan't be parted, My full name and me.

The loathe boat. Soon you’ll be making another run. With a gun. Shoot and stun. I don’t loathe you. I Ioved you. Please don’t make me change my mind.

a bad tattoo. an ill-advised decision. when I pick up the phone, it stings like a bad tattoo. the one I touch because I know people can see it. I rub the center of my bad tattoo, willing and wishing it into non existence. I play pretend and avoid when people ask. Is that a new tattoo? nope, I’ve had it for awhile now. I don’t like to talk about it because when I decided to get it, I was lying to myself about why it was important. permanent ink on the skin is easier to ignore when people don’t ask. I know it’s there. And now, so do you. I’ll blame it all on youthful indiscretion. You’ll play it off like you think it’s cute.

Auto insurance quotes from geico seem reasonable. Don’t give up on the gecko. The echo. my stomach in knots. Lindsay lohan. Late 70s funk. coffee. toffee. The yawn of my late night choices. This little girl is the queen of her castle. Who plays your piano? Do they know the tune?

But know I'm all like: !!HEY IT'S VINCENT FUCKING PRICE!! kickass

the wind is picking up. my steps like floating. the direction is firmly aimed north. for the first time I feel the change. my resistance has lifted, and now I will fly the coop. destiny in flight feels so much different than I thought. my wingspan is wider and my stride is smooth. sure of my direction even without a map. I am both scared and excited, and now I will fly the coop.