I was talking to Ms. Moon this morning via the internets about how low I've been feeling and such is the inspiration that I feel from Ms. Moon that my mind made a quick metaphor and I realized that I feel like one of those low-rider cars that Los Angeles had back in the day.
I'm so low, I'm like one of those low rider cars driving around, looking for a fight.
17 comments:
Okay, did you see my last comment about Thelma & Louise? Now you post a picture of a car, not quite the same kinda car, but perhaps it's a sign my friend.
But I am serious about the date. Let's do it. Soon.
Sometimes anger and sadness are braided together and almost impossible to pry apart.
Sometimes.
A little humor to lighten your mood.
Texan: “Where are you from?”
Harvard grad: “I come from a place where we do not end our sentences with prepositions.”
Texan: “Okay – where are you from, jackass?”
A guy is sitting at home when he hears a knock at the door. He opens the door and sees a snail on the porch. He picks up the snail and throws it as far as he can. Three years later, there’s a knock on the door. He opens it and sees the same snail. The snail says "What the hell was that all about?"
Jesus and Saint Peter are golfing. St. Peter steps up to the tee on a par three and hits one long and straight. It reaches the green. Jesus is up next. He slices it. It heads over the fence into traffic on an adjacent street. Bounces off a truck, onto the roof of a nearby shack and into the rain gutter, down the drain spout and onto a lilly pad at the edge of a lake. A frog jumps up and snatches the ball in his mouth. An eagle swoops down, grabs the frog. As the eagle flies over the green, the frog croaks and drops the ball. It’s in the hole. Saint Peter looks at Jesus, exasperated. "Are you gonna play golf?" he asks "Or are you just gonna fuck around?"
Check your mailbox! xoxoxo
Lilith - LOL!
It's time to have lunch soon, I think. Meanwhile sending you love.
One more.
A man went to heaven and was being shown around by St. Peter.
As they went from cloud to cloud they came to various doors which
St. Peter would open. One showed a large group rolling on the floor
and talking in tongues. "Our Pentecostals" he said..
Next was a serious ritual. "Our Jewish persuasion" he replied.
Then another ritualistic service. "Our Catholics".
At the next cloud, he didn't open the door but instead put his
forefinger to his lips in the hush motion and they both tip toed
past.. Once past, the man asked what that was all about !?
"Those are the Baptists", he explained. "They think they are the
only one's here".
Heather: Jump on in, lady.
Ms. Moon: Yes.
Lilith: Those are the three best jokes I've ever heard. Thank you -- they were just about perfect.
Denise: Lunch and cake. Soon.
This sounds ominous and promising in one gulp. I look forward to hear what happens next. With a car like that you could go anywhere, even if your rear end gets a little scraped.
Sorry to hear you're low.
It happens. Sometimes the grinding slog is so hard it brings a saint to tears.
Then there is a sunrise or laughter or love and you feel life again. This happens too. And it will for you.
Hoping tomorrow feels better.
low riders are the one thing in l.a. that i covet. are they really a thing of the past?
xoxoxo
misery, company, etc.
xoxo. and, xoxo.
I am so sorry to hear that you are feeling down sweetie and sorry I haven't been by. I posted a film of the children's art but it might not be the thing right now.
xoxo,
Noelle
Cause sometimes it just feels better to be mad than sad, doesn't it?
I agree with Ms. Moon and "raise" her with my two cents: Often powerlessness and anger and sadness are braided together and secured with a knot at the bottom. Nothing more frustrating than powerlessness.
Love.
Wishing you strength as you work thru a difficult time. Don't be too hard on yourself.
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