Hey, the song of the day is Burn It Down. Hope you like it.
Ming wanted to hear it, and he danced so cutely, this morning. He asked for the song about Rodney Coronado, and I didn’t know what he was talking about. But when I searched for Burn It Down, I was like–oh! Yeah, I had already “liked” it. Very good David Rovics song.
“I kinda enjoy that feeling, of laughing and crying at the same time. Did you read that wikipedia article on Rodney Coronado lately?”I asked Ming.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Omg. Arrested for who he friended on facebook! Did you see that?”
“Yeah,” Ming said. Insert emotions here.
Yesterday I met a new doctor. I came out of the appointment very positive, hopeful, and upbeat. Ming and I went for a walk around the backside of the parking lot, where we were for the appointment. I told him everything, as we saw the backsides of buildings, and I looked at parking lot trash. But really, the doctor’s visit was a horrible medical experience.
Getting weighed was the first thing we did. The CNA told me to step on the scale. I thought about saying no, but I hadn’t been weighed in a long time and was curious about my gravity lately. So I stepped on the scale, and the ugly BMI chart was right there in my face. Wow! Thanks.
I would prefer a sign that said:
The number on this scale does not determine your value, brilliance, beauty, importance to the world, how loved you are, or even your health. It tells you how many pounds you weigh on this planet, nothing more. Other planets, you would weigh something else. Fat liberation forever!!!
It went downhill from the weigh in, really. They took my blood pressure four times. The machine hurt me.
“I’m sorry that was uncomfortable,” the CNA said.
“No, actually–it hurt,” I said. I didn’t want to be a jerk to her. But I really hate when “pain” is not allowed. Pretending it didn’t hurt hurts most of all.
Felt anxious and So Tired of Being Responsible. I need to frolic in a meadow or otherwise be irresponsible for a while. I need to fuck around more.
Yesterday afternoon, sitting in the sun txting a friend, I had the desire to smoke weed. I haven’t smoked weed since I was a kid. But it was the impulse to relax. Can I be done doing work now? I do a fuckton of work, for someone without a job.
I am ready to admit a truth to you. Ready to hear me? Ok, here we go. I love parking lots. It’s where they keep the dumpsters, usually.