I feel like I'm sucking on lemons tonight. I'm sour. I've been going and going and.... Mars is in the blah house, apparently. I've been told that my funny bone is broken. Its Saturday night and I was thrilled that there was only one other person at the laundromat. Actually, I resented his existence.
All day I've thought about JD Salinger's death, about how it makes me sad even though he hasn't wanted anyone to even think about him for the last 40 years. I have lots of estrangement in my family. I'm used to mourning people I haven't seen or talked to in ages. When they die it means that the reunion that probably wasn't going to happen is definitely not happening now.
I could take an herbal bath, or read some poetry, or go out dancing, or stay in and dance. Any of those things might get me out of my funk. Funk. That's what I need. That's the prescription for the night. Who can listen to Freak of the Week and stay sour?
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I think it worked. Thanks to my brother Tom for turning me on to Funkadelic years back. I think I'm gonna slip on my Disco 77 shirt and head out the door. I'm a soldier in the army of Uncle Jam.
Oh, how this makes me long for a disco shirt!!
I almost gave it away, Dian... so glad I have it. I guess you never no when it might become vitally necessary!
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