J- was really high tonight. I noticed immediately. It was annoying. It seems hypocritical of me to judge him for being stupid. But everyone knows I hate stupid people.
I got the best compliment from Barbara, whom I met for the first time tonight. I heard someone shout my name (her) then, “I want to be you!” Lol. THAT is awesome.
I’m really hungry. Got the jazz munchies. Need tacos. It’s always tacos. Mmmm. Tacos.
I’m on the trolley. I feel like I’m floating. I’d write on the lines but it’s hard to write at all. My hand wants to dance. Or float. It wants to float. I keep it grounded with the pen. Hmm. I need tacos. (3) I like tacos. :)
I hear strange piano music as I ride through the mist. They should sell this as “an experience.” That it is. Tacos in space. Tacos in space, man. Tacos in space.
You know, when I take my pearls off and ride the trolley with a bag of recyclables, people think I’m a hooker.
The music won’t stop in my head. It just keeps playing, faster and faster. It’s tiring me. Please. I just need tacos. I don’t want to interfere with the tune passing through me. But I’m dizzy and so cold and it’s hard to breathe. Music passing through me.
G, the strange experiences happen a lot around you, when you play. Why? What is it you’re not telling me? You are a portal. I am a seed.
(switch to “I Hope I Get It” from A Chorusline)
© Michelle Routhieaux 2011