Today I reflect on a few things offered up by a barfly they call Mosquito: a confident tatooed man, of average height and shave-ed head, that plays in a band on a drum set that he lights on fire at Bar of Soap- a punkrock laundrymat/cantina in the neighborhood. I think it caters to people who otherwise wouldn't give attention to laundry. It caters to me.
Anyways, the point. The point is, I accredit Mosquito to two blurbs.
"Jesus Gail, I can't think of the WORD. Hell.... this scrabble mentality is killing me!"
Funny how you trap yourself into little games that when the fun wears off, you can't find your way out of.
The second was a little sidebar talk we had. At least I think it was him. We were talking about what it meant to say "I'm sorry." I told him I didn't think very sorry was shit, and that it was nothing at all. What he said never made sense to me until yesterday.
You're right, for sorry doesn't mean anything at all.
...until you mean it."
I AM sorry. I am sorry. I am SORRY.

It has been almost a week since I quit meds cold turkey. An act of rebellion- as my doctor told me from the get go to do everything sloooooowly. Physiological effects include: foggy head, morning dizziness, and some funny tingling. Itz nod da twoomoor. Psychological effects include: increased sentimentality (guilt for not visiting my family, not calling old friends, not developing new friends fairly), regret for past sins committed, empathy for characters I may or may not have personal relationships with, and long pauses in conversations and normal daily routines to consider everything fore-mentioned. Ironically, my brother commented yesterday on the phone: 'Are you taking some of them pills that makes ya think?' when I trailed off in the middle of my own sentence.

I'm not a disaster. I am not catatonic. I'm functioning fine. So is basic human giving-a-fucking-shitedness something that I have been relieved of in my red pills haitus? Something I can choose whether to be accountable for? Upon understanding this insight, does that therefore leave me accountable? Can I just say that the snake made me taste and go on chomping away in ignorant bliss. The brutal honestly I had attributed to confidence in aging, may instead be numb insensitivity.

....Eso
es la pregunata.