The Texting

It is 1:13 pm and I have written 411 posts so far. You can look up for yourself what four stands for but eleven to me represents new beginnings. Funny how I live in a number eleven house too: 38738. I don’t even know what the name of the street is. How funny is that? Some dude at the post-office the other day asked me for my address and I just started to stumble. I was like;”omg, he can totally see right thru me and knows that I’m here illegally.” I live in a hood called Dentville. How funny is that? Dentville. On the main road, in a white house.

I love white. It’s bright, it’s clean, it’s crisp, it’s like a clean slate. I love those. You know, ’bout being a detective. There is one sentence in my piece “The Detective”, that just won’t cease from my mind. (time: 1:23 pm)I quote:” You have to be willing to lose the case you’ve built in order to get to the right suspect.” Now get this: I was just taking a shower and felt like doing the balloon thing again. I do it all the time. I don’t even have to do it consciously anymore, just automatically happens cuz I’m completely in the moment.

Yeppers. In the moment there is no future or past. Just now. But at times when I happen to think of it, I do the ballooning thing anyway. And so I did while I was taking a shower. I just want to be sure I’m not attached to my suspect. I just can not afford to be-come emotionally involved. There is too much at stake! I don’t even know what is at stake, but I do feel there is A LOT at stake. Don’t bother me, I never think of it. Right now: everything is perfect.

So yeah, I did the ballooning thing. And guess what I saw in my minds’ eye? A person with a big smile. It reminded me of a post I once wrote. (draft saved: 1:27:34 pm)And how weird, but now my mind just is completely blank. It would compare to me being frazzled, like last Tuesday eve. It also reminded me of how I yada yada yadaa-ed to Chili after completely unexpected this man walked in during this evening. (word count: 374) It threw me off! Not a little bit. No, a 100%. I could not believe it.

And so I drunk facebooked him after that. For two minutes or so I re-opened my facebook page to send the unexpected a message. Now mind you, he is not one of my friends on facebook. He declined my request like two years ago or so. This is what I drunk messaged him: (word count: 444)”What the hell were you doing there?!” Pretty rude on my behalf if you ask me, cuz it’s not like he had no right to be there. It was a public opening of a gallery for Pete’s sake.

I used to be pretty damn good at drunk texting too. Yeah, I’ve sent quite a few. I once said to a friend:”My phone should be taken away from me when I’m intoxicated cuz I tend to drunk text and half of the time I do not remember I did.” Yeah, pretty lame. Not a shame. (word count: 550)In retrospect? Pretty funny if you ask me.

Needless to say he never responded.

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Now? I’ve been living without a phone indefinitely since I began to write. Definitely since September 2009. I love it! I have my own private line with my clone. (draft saved: 1:37:37 pm)So do you, but you’ve just let yourself be programmed to think that you need a phone to call the ones you love. There is an open line all the time! Especially in this Unity paradigm. It’s called telepathy. But sometimes you’re not quite sure, who’s on the other line. Maybe because some just really love mysteries and detectives.(time: 1:44 pm)