KJPcreations

I’m having a Sleeping Nude sort of week or month or maybe even a year. By Sleeping Nude I mean exhibiting unusual proportions. It’s not like I am holding an abnormally large breast whilst fast asleep on some shambles of a sofa; it’s more like I feel blurry, a squishy sort of person with flabby beginnings and droopy endings. No offense to the artist, Lucian Freud, whose model is fascinating. It’s just that my mood is unattractively exposed.

An attempt to add up the good with the bad:

There’s the job. There’s that. And there’s the writing. There’s that. Also, there’s the running. There’s…that. Family time is golden time. There is a groovy apartment (when it’s not a complete mess.) Oh, and there’s, wait — there’s the blacklisted from Craigslist personal ads. Yeah, there’s that. Some how or some why or some way, I can no longer troll for bottom feeders on any given night of the week which is to say my personal ads get flagged within hours of posting. What the (F.) You know your life is on the right path when that happens. There’s that. No more losers to squelch the lonely. Yay! Oh, but the lonely makes me think crazy thoughts like I am exhibiting unusual proportions.

My Pops says, “It’s good to have people around to call you on your B.S.” Um, I would if I could! Friends? Not so many living here in Portland. There’s that. We’ve established my get-a-date methods are no longer working. There’s that. But there is my family time. They would surely hold my saggy breasts for me if I were unable to do so in repose on a less than gorgeous settee. There’s that. There’s fine wine to drink and Devotchka & My Morning Jackets albums to snuggle up with; there’s uncooked culinary delights to invent; there’s running trails to traverse and shoes to muddy; there’s tears to shed and laughter to follow; there’s self-deprecation and making a fool of oneself (not necessarily in that order); there’s that thing we can always count on, a thing called change. There’s all of that, unattractively exposed.