Yesterday I Met A Women With Blue Tip Hair

She had sparkle blue finger nails and blue crocs. The words came gushing out like a faucet about how she was homeless for a couple of years and now she is not.

How she picks the wrong men because they are exciting but regrets it afterwards cuz they are nuts, and have, in her much cleaned up words, small equipment. How 67 is not too old for Bestey Johnson attire.

There was a lot more but you get the drift. This is a woman with a life that is parked to the side.


I am reminded that all forms of crazy are not bad. Life is to be lived and not always suffered through.

There has got to be some fun and joy in it or damnation what is the point?

I met a Debbie Downer days earlier and there is toxicity in communicating with people like that; everything is lousy, everything is rigged, there is no hope only compliance.

Blah.

I was thinking about Madam Blue as I was going through my day at the Salt Mine. I was seeing my own constrictions of L7.

I grow tired of wearing the mask of conformity yet I'll never get tired of having a roof over my head. Not proud of myself but I understand why I am doing what I am doing.

I also keep reminding myself that I will be back in the wild, one way or another.

Transition or Jump?

It is my choice.