For Your Viewing Pleasure

Fatigue. Malaise. Exhaustion. Those are the words that describe me the past few days. It's so much work sometimes to take care of myself. I am grateful for a lot. I really am. But sometimes I get the feeling of resentment that I'm doing it all alone. I want some help. I was thinking of dating sites. Just thinking, as I'm not quite ready to date right now. Still have some "issues" that I'd like to sort out. But I am lonely at times. Actually, I have sort-of, kind-of dated a few people in the past year. I see what I like and what I don't like. I start to consider that I'm going to be limited in the men that I date because...well, sometimes, I think I might be crazy. My friends who love me say that I am special. That sounds like a person who participated in the Retarded Olympics.
I thought of going on match.com. I did it years ago and actually met a boyfriend. I had gone on there simply looking to date people...just practice dating...and I met a boyfriend. It was cool. He smelled good and had nice skin, too.
Then I considered what I would put on an ad these days...I'm getting too old to waste time with nonsense.
I contemplated putting the following arbitrary photographs on a match.com profile. I took them with my cell phone at various times during the past year. They struck me for some reason and I had to take the picture. I wonder if they would intrigue someone.

The following photo was taken last summer on a day in which the temperature was 258 degrees Fahrenheit:


I was blown away that the nun had a full habit on in the heat. Literally ten seconds after I slyly snapped her photo, she melted in a puddle. She looked exactly like a Klondike Bar. Ever curious, I tasted her, and it turned out that she was vanilla on the inside with a crunchy chocolate shell.



This photo was taken while I was waiting in the colon rectal surgeon's office:

It was prior to knowing that I was going to have (yet another) fistulotomy. It was the cover of Reader's Digest. I did not read it, but the horse in the wig was a real knee-slapper. I sent it via phone to many people. A few replied. One friend said, "I wish I looked that good."


This was a fucked-up looking grape that some of my 5th grade boys had:

I felt embarrassed for the grape because we laughed at it.


This was a peanut butter cup taken that had melted in my friend's driveway in another large east coast city:

To make her laugh, I bent down and smelled it. To heighten the hilarity, some of the chocolate got on the tip of my nose. Warm fecal matter on my nose was entertaining to us.


Next, there was this sign propped on the desk of the woman who did my intake prior to my surgery:

I wondered how many plastic jars of shit she had on her desk before she decided to make that sign.



This bird was on the street after I had brunch one Sunday:

I purposely walked down that street for close to a week to see if it was still there. It stayed there for six days! If I had a yard and had found it, I would have buried it there. But the little sparrow just rotted in public view.



Finally, this is the most recent photo:

I took it this past weekend. It is the pink petals that the wind blew down from the trees. I have tried like hell to determine to what tree they belonged, but no luck. I will ask my neighbor, who is good at that stuff. I like how they carpeted the ground and made the concrete look soft and fancy.


When I am happy, I am blissful. I rarely miss a trick. There is much to love in this world; there is much to be amused by. But it can also be so exhausting to not shut off. There is no filter between my insides and what is outside.