Gianna's Droppings

It's summer but I'm slipping, missed the mark and now it's killing me. I don't know what to do  with myself anymore. I've spent every night doing yoga on the floor,  because I'm trying to be mindful; Clear my thoughts and make my mind up  about staying clean or taking a shower or at which hour to lay down to go to sleep. That's just what I do every day of the week.  I thought I would be kissing, and we had fun but now I have to figure it  out.  I could've sworn that I once knew how to write a list of to-dos but now my yoga, it's not working,  and I tell ya, I'm sick of jerking  off. It makes me cry to even try, so I just lay there for while while you're working it. I've always hated my smile, is it working yet? What do you do when you're finished with everything else? When you've walked around, made a plan, read the books that line the shelves? I know it isn't up to me, but god, I'm really freaking  out. What do I do now? ...

The kitchen is the heart of the home, and so, before I leave to roam, I wash the dishes in the sink. My inanimate mind shrink.  Keeping things tidy is good for the heart,  like a glass of red wine, or dark chocolate, or looking at fine art. Nice and clean. You know what I mean? The name of the game is alleviation-- the tightness in my chest, my mind's nervous creations --  If you are your home, and your home is you, it becomes more obvious as to what you should do. Let's say at work, you're having trouble making good tips. Well, money is liquid, where does it fall from your lips? Its nickname isn't "porcelain throne" for nothing, Imagine an abudnace that suits a king. 

  “ Y ou’re still coming, right?”         Juliet released a deep sigh from her velour seat on the Peter Pan bus, simultanously trying to keep her mouth closed, lest she throw up. The sun was beating down on her through the window, and for every second of this bus ride, Juliet Whithers kicked herself for not choosing a seat on the other side of the aisle. She tried not to let the annoyance show in her voice when she replied to her sister: “Yes, Ava. I’ll be there.” She didn’t let the conversation go on for much longer after that, something she felt she earned through embarking on this tumultuous journey, thinking it would be best to save her energy for the evening. Juliet held her breath as her bus continued on its journey through the Lincoln Tunnel, and then she tried to let it go, because this was about shaking old habits, but a knot remained snug in her chest.       It was their parents’ joint birthday and everyone was getting older, a...