dangerous compassions

I call you / from the comet's cradle

Monday, May 22, 2017

queen of zines

Stopped at the Barstow panera.  Ming's out at the car taking a pill.

The drive so far, for me, has been easy.  All I have to do is watch, passenge, dj.  Try not to sleep.

I feel healthy and well.  Yesterday morning we danced.  This morning I circumnavigated the Mad Greek restaurant with ravens.

Except my right thumb has been twitching for a few days.  I think it's from txting, handwriting, maybe typing.  It makes me feel a bit infirm.  I think it happens more when I'm dehydrated.  Not sure.

Some customers at another table were talking about their timeshares.  Paying $20,000.  Sometimes I feel so comfortable, nowadays, I forget I'm not rich.  But those people are rich.

This morning we left at 5:41.  Our friend R saw us at 5:24 and hugged us, about to scatter his mom's ashes.  He said, "Love you guys," twice.  And our friend M waved to us from his door in his bathrobe.

Last night King Ron was over late, for us, wearing the rainbow tiedyed teeshirt I gave him a couple weeks ago.  I noticed some small holes in it from his cigarette burns yesterday at Food Not Bombs.

We met a new person named J.  She started talking about zines.  King Ron and Ming told her that I'm the queen of zines.  Well, I'll admit I'm the local queen.


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