…I felt relieved and relaxed…nothing like I thought I would feel after throwing up a meal or a hastily, craved and prepared binge. I felt like I did exactly what I should have…

09.29.10 (ref. 09.18.10)

C: I heard on the news that some person in a thong is riding a goat while smoking pot running around town. I'll come get you, but it's the last time!


[...] I walked passed some grungy transient one night reading tarot cards in the bricked up window enclave beside the door to the bar. I sat down on the ground. Flipping the cards I had drawn--he started off by saying "You are the black sheep of the family"...and then he continued "you will never find true love. you will never find love in missoula."

I put to much into his mysticism...for some reason I thought he was right.

But of course "you will never find love in missoula" was always in the back of my mind. For some reason, that hobo with is incense burning on the concrete of the sidewalk and his dirty blanket upon which he sat still haunted me. This cannot be love...I am not suppose to find love here. Of course, eventually, he faded...slightly...but I always questioned myself "is my first really the one. Can it be that you are the "one"?" Is the soul mate theory even plausible? Its been so ingrained in our ideology that it has become truth...so should we just jump at the first thing that loves you back?


Interior Monologue: