dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Sunday, August 30, 2015

in which our hero gets hit on, sings in a goddess temple, and procures decent apples

This morning Ming went to Food Not Bombs without me.  I hung out at the queer center's cafe.  Then someone walked in asking me how to get to the shelter Shade Tree, and I ended up looking up directions for her on my phone.  It was three miles away.  I wrote the directions for her on a piece of paper I tore out of my journal and then left.

Outside I waited for Ming to come get me.  It was not too hot, less then 100.  Then this guy asked me for fifty cents and I gave him my change.  Then he hit on me.  It was creepy and I didn't like it.  The guy was asking me if I was married and saying he needed companionship and someone to talk to.  I wished him luck.  He wouldn't give up, and I told him I was calling Ming.  So I sat on a bench calling Ming but he didn't answer the phone.  I called him three times and he didn't answer.  I was afraid he was asleep somewhere.

So then Ming rolled up in the Echo, and I was upset.  It was like yesterday.  I was angry at the world and not feeling well at all.

We went home and talked it out.  Then we decided to go to the goddess temple.  I made sandwiches.  Our priestess friend couldn't see us, which was sad but okay.  We spent half an hour by ourselves in the temple.  I wrote in the little book.  We sang good mother songs in the perfect acoustics.

Then some women showed up, and we left the temple.  We walked a tiny ways out into the wilderness.  It was nice.  I found a road and walked a little ways up the road.

I felt way better, and we came home, stopping at Whole Foods for decent apples, but we bought way more than apples.  The end.


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