You’ve painted me all the colours you have names for

It has taken me this long to realize my brain isn’t mad; it  takes the elevator, and not the stairs, and dreams in colours science hasn’t words for yet.



Beeph jerky 

I just finished meeting my in-laws for the first time via  Skype. I was quite nervous: Sweat and overhydrate kind of nervous, which yes, was largely unnecessary but still happened.

I’ve known Alvin for 4 years, and other than writing his mother a letter a year into our relationship and sending her the odd postcard or whatever, she and I have not spoken. I feel like if one abides by standard Conventional relationship logic, that’s a long time for things to go without meeting parents. 

We are however, unconventional,and I love us for that. 

In December, Alvin and I are going to Malaysia to get married in the church and officially meet the parents. By “the church”, I mean the Catholic Church . I’m  not Catholic: I’m a vaguely Pagan agnostic jew who is low-key tolerant of religion as long as it’s not oppressing anyone. (it’s usually oppressing someone) Alvin is his own  thing,but was raised Catholic. I’m perfectly willing to do this because I believe people need those little rituals to tie us together in a world that tries to tear us down. If this is how his folks want to watch their one son get married, then that’s what we’ll do.

Now, The petite  Panther of a cat that we live with has beautifully and elegantly draped himself across me, as if settling for me somewhat begrudgingly. It’s nice to have a soft Kitty tummy to rub as I watch Grace and Franky and miss the boy in Malaysia tonight, while burning as much incense as I want.
Goodnight, lovelies.. And goodnight to you, loveliest: every single day I get to hear that voice of yours, (like chocolate covered coffee beans)  I know I am somehow blessed by gods I still may not believe in. 

After sleeping on beds that weren’t my bed for two weeks while out out of the country and having some back pain (that’s normal) but nothing near the bone-smelting level I’d been experiencing prior to our trip, I now know the issue is our bed. Logically , this led to me feeling actual hate towards the bed, as if it was a human  who is intentionally crushing my little bird bones into dust. So, we bought a mattress topper.  From Mancini’s sleep-world.

Mancini’s is one of those places that has loud-talking car-salesmen types who are likely all named something like “Chad” or “Stan” and  exude weird, old-school douchebag out of their ugly poly-blend polo-shirts while sweatily stare-smiling you into a more expensive purchase than you want to make. Or, they’re trying to ask questions I’ve already asked Alvin and myself, because I’m not about to be sold some bullshit I don’t want. I was prepared for this, because I know mattress store are hellscapes. I managed to not get bullied into buying more than what I wanted and we bought an under $400 mattress topper to be shipped to our house by this Monday. On Monday the fucker had not been delivered and I’m tired of waking up every morning feeling like a package of kale chips in the bottom of a bag filled with pickle-jars. So, we ordered one on Amazon on Tuesday, and at the moment, it’s laying on our apartment floor, uncompressing.

That may or may not have been a good Idea, seeing as I locked my cat in the closet while at my appointment today, and he may or may not shit on it/eat it/murder it.

I’ll know soon.

There’s no moral here other that Amazon is terrific and I hate mattress stores because they’re terrible.

VHS Emoji,