Late last night I shoveled a salad of barley, edamame, cashews, spinach and brussel sprouts down my throat. I had been exercising. I needed sustenance.
The barley concoction got stuck in the middle of my esophagus while I lay in bed trying to sleep.
I finally slept and – you guessed right – had a nightmare starring Creepy Dolly Kill Kill and The Man with the Sguiggly Hair.
After a gothic struggle with the doll in a room lit by a candelabra, I dragged her from underneath the bureau and ripped off her plasticine face, which rendered her mute. No longer could she taunt through cherry red lips, “Dolly want to kill kill.”
You should have seen it yo! I ripped Dolly’s face right off of her head and threw it into the hall!
That’s when I saw… him… the Sguiggly-Haired One, creeping toward me from around the corner, up to no damn good.
Horrified at the sight of him in my dream, I awakened upon hearing myself moan, cow-like, “mawrrrrrrrr,” a dull crying out against the monster, I suppose, that permeated the first dimension. It’s like waking yourself up with your own snoring. That clump of barley was stuck still in the center of my chest.
So this is what barley salad did to me. I’m looking at the salad now and it’s so unassuming, so pretty. Would I be a fool to eat it again? My folly shall soon be revealed…
An old man got on the bus demanding that a woman in front, in the old people seats give up her kid’s seat for him. “Can I have that seat?” He said, pointing to her kid. The bus was a can of Granadaisa Sardines. It was hot and I stood in back of the bus, sweating like a bitch on fire. People were still getting on the bus, squeezing past other passengers and their baggage. People were twisting around to see what was going on. From the back I could hear the man because he was yelling. The woman yelled back, “No!” “What?!” The old man said. “I said no!” She said back. He yelled even louder, “I want that seat!”
The woman wouldn’t budge, so a nice lady, who also had no business sitting in the old people seats, gave him hers. He sat down and screamed to the nice woman who had given him her seat, “I’m sorry. I just had to sit down. She should have given me her seat. I’m sorry.” He said to the mean woman with the brat then, “You’ll get old and I hope they don’t give you a seat!”
I hate when people who have no business sitting in those seats refuse to get up when old people get on. Jesus! It’s printed right on the seats to please let old and handicapped people sit there. People don’t go to charm school anymore. They don’t have manners.
An acquaintance of mine was on the bus. I frowned at him and pointed to the commotion. “That man’s right, those people have no business sitting there. He’s right! I hate that! I hate that!” I said. I wagged my finger and shook my head. I was sweaty and probably looked like a maniac. My acquaintance’s face was red. He seemed overwhelmed with the commotion, with the crowded bus, with the heat, with me wagging my finger at him and sweating. I even riled myself up so much that I got an acid reflux attack. This was fucked up because I wanted to be on time – I hate being late for work. The only remedy for the excruciating acid reflux pain was for me to get off the bus a mile and a half before my stop to buy a bottle of water to stop the pain. So that’s what I did.
The lesson: I was dumb to get upset over a stranger’s conflict. I was already imbalanced as this was supposed to be my day off, I was running late, I was uncomfortable and hot, and as usual, had slept very little. This incident was an easy target for displaced frustration. God forbid I should have been sitting in the front where I could have caused more of a ruckus being an instigator!
So in the sunlight of the spirit I forgive the stupid bitch who was a peasant raised by wolves. The poor thing just didn’t know any better. What does a wolf know? I should accept people’s shortcomings like the bible says — judge not lest ye be judged – something like this. She probably didn’t go to charm school. I didn’t either, but I didn’t have to. I read “How to Win Friends and Influence People,” which has stuff about manners and what not in there.