Great mo-ment, like rhymes with ferment. Momentum. The movement of seconds all piling up on each other. I want to explore the wild territory of my mind. The many ecosystems. Why are my eyes so heavy? It is 8:30 pm and I arose at 9:30 am–not 12 hours of this day and I am exhausted. I noticed i needed nourishment. After Chris shared her yummy vegetable melange with me last night as we traversed the Aurora bridge by Metro bus and oohed and awed over the bright dynamic rainbow like a candycane jutting out of the sky, and so perfect like Goddess winking at us on National Coming Out Day, I awoke thinking about vegetables. I’m out of working gel pens and I hate writing with ball point but I’m out of money, too. So today our biweekly box of produce arrived from the farm, right onto our doorstep. After my shower and meditation and energetic shimmywiggles and casting a spell, I washed the dishes and took out the compost and spent the next hour chopping vegetables. Leeks and beets and carrots and garlic and broccoli and romanesco (which is like spiral-shaped broccoli!) and mushrooms. One whole lime squeezed into the sizzling cast iron skillet. Smoked sea salt and freshly ground pepper. Deliberately avoided spices, wanting to just enjoy the simple essence of the veggies themselves.
But I am now feeling at the end of my tolerance. Aggro. Aggressive. Irritated. Angry, hungry, lonely, tired. On the bus with one of those drivers who slams on the brakes and stomps on the gas and thank Goddess I was able to slide into a forward-facing seat because being shoved sideways again and again from the momentum would drive me goddamn crazy. I’m at the piont of what Amanda calls “hitting a wall.”