Confessions of a faded, twenty-something, ex-pickleball player
This was not a Hail Mary.
As I rest on my laurels of a well-deserved “hump day”, I stare at my Persian rug. I ponder the forthcoming weekend and the former.
I am a teenage dirt bag, high on life — and other things. In retrospect, I should not have shown up in that state, but that is what I do in these days of turmoil! And then I say lots of shit that makes me look like a loquacious numb nut. This and that, tit for tat, some things true, some not so. Because being up in the clouds mentally is for silly dreams and post-Raphaelite nudity. Don’t tell me otherwise. To him who witnessed, take whatever I said in those Zappa hours with a grain of salt — or a pillar — as a high woman banters and quips her stupid little lips. Makes odd pronouncements. Cannot be tamed. Is willy-nilly and stretches truths. Reveals sexual lives and under exaggerates. Overshares, which is quite unlike her! But I do apologize to the recent New Yorker with whom these attributes were on full display. Very unappealing. Valentina is not to be trusted while under the influence. I am…avec vos meufs. As the French say (rarely). And a faded woman does as a high woman was.
When things get rough the tough get tough. One excuse is as good as your mother! We are living. In your free time I encourage you to look at the stars, look at the shoes on your feet, their gentle scuffs. Take those shoes off and feel the dirty dirt between your toes. Remember it is Wednesday, hump day! There is exciting news, cholesterol is never an issue for anyone ever again. A Gwyneth Paltrow vagina candle is free with a purchase of $500 or more from GOOP!
Lodged between a pursing of countries lips, my ancestral Poland cries out for my repentance. Michigan extols its virtues to its reluctant Polska. It is okay! Eat a pączki to your hearts content, but do not touch the marijuana. But I digress on the page in my native Italy. There is a lot to say when you may have ruined a first encounter.
In the end, it is hump day. Maybe I will never see him again, but I do feel silly for my garrulousness. Thank you for listening. I hope we can kiss as friends, and maybe share a Marlboro Light.
