I don't know why, I don't know why

Salutations, reader.

Heartfelt, because it is the way I experience life. This mental meandering finds me kinda bummed out. For friends who are concerned, it's OK, life is sort of like that ups and downs. It helps me to thrust my feelings into the virtual stratosphere, so know that at least by reading you are in a small way aiding my ailment. 

Burpa doo.

This weekend I went to the coast. I walked along the beach dicking around taking pictures of the water, hopping across foamy shores, poking jelly fish carcasses, and watching dogs poo and then calling them over to me while the owner was picking up the doodoo causing my happy chemicals to surge from sweet puppy love.

I actually did notice that I had to scuttle a bit from Alexandria Beach, where I had left my car, over to the Cannon Beach to avoid the incoming waves. I wasn't however, sure what way the water was going. Maybe I did know. Maybe I just wanted to keep walking, knowing the whole time that I would have to get in the water some when I got back. 

I didn't really think about it that much till I realized that I had walked a full hour and a half and it would take me just as long to get back. After a bend, I recognized a couple of huge rocks in the distance and thought that I was parked farther away than it looked. As I approached the spot where I had crossed it seemed to me that the waves crashing on the rock were higher than waist line.

I looked to the left away from the water to find mountain with no certain trail upward, at no moment did I question the decision of getting in the water. I took my shoes off and started in.
It was reallly fucking cold and within a few moments I lost my footing and was wading, my hand with the shoes fell down against the rock to support my weight. Soaked those through. I pushed on and my feet scraped some rocks and barnacles, then finding sandy shore and I followed that till I was able to run out on the other side. 

Coming out of the water, I was acutely aware that no one was around. At first I thought it was funny to be concerned with potentially being embarrassed at a moment like this until I realized I was actually thinking I could have easily drowned in my foolish feat. No one would have noticed for at least a few hours, if at all that night. How would have they identified me? Who would they call? What would that whole process look like?

I was totally soaked, no extra clothes in my car, at least an hour and a half away from home. At least I had remembered to pack a towel. I noticed my shoes were still in my hands, and they were much heavier than I remembered, I flipped them over to release a mini deluge onto the tan sand. Oh well I thought, at least they didn't get swept away by the water, those were my only hiking shoes, looking tall, granola, and sturdy in a sea of lanky slacker converse sneaks. I ripped off my water repellent (ha!) pants and the under regular pants were also soaked through and through. I put the water shoes back on to go to the bathroom cause gross, splish slash sloshing to the porta potty, to pee and change into my bright yellow hoodie that I miraculously had left in the car.

When I finally got back to the car I remembered that I had my phone in my pocket the whole time. I fumbled my way through the wetter than I though blue coat. I was able to pull it out and see the screen flash a couple times before it blanked out forever. I was able to distinguish in those couple flashes that I had a twitter favorite notification, a new instagram like, and that Will from TInder was cancelling our date that evening because he had to "pick his friend from work". I thought that is a fucked up reason to cancel on someone. Then the phone went out and I spent the next  few minutes trying to resuscitate it. Well, to be truthful I spent about fifteen minuted soaked, sitting on a towel in my car struggling to open the goddamned kid proof case. I finally get so pissed I just tossed it in my passenger seat and turned the car on and sped off.

Picking up a friend from work? WTF is that shit about. What does that even have to do with me? Like, if a friend of mine needed to be picked up from work at the same time I had a hot date I would be like "fuck off dude, I have a hot date, your ass can take the bus home". I sped  through the beautiful towering trees, flicking up little leaf gusts with my little car, rolling into an uncertain but hopefully drier future.

The losing the phone and date combo was a lethal one to my emo side. I totally sunk into uber sad thoughts. Thoughts about my worth, my future, social status, creative funk, my family so far away from me in Florida. I thought about why my ex who hadn't contacted me in over 6 months sent me picture of our first apartment together. Before we moved into his parent's basement, where we stayed till we broke up a year or so later. That was back in 2007, why was he messaging me now? Where do the mythical figures of our past go to rest finally? Are we always to be haunted by the specter of our sordid pasts at any moment?

It's fine, I am okay with my pasts and all, it's just maybe I am not on a solid emotional footing that week. It's like summoning an avalanche of emotional snow. I just didn't pack my winter gear, ya know? I just try not to think about it, I have dealt with all the things I needed to deal with, I just don't see the point in dwelling in it anymore, I did that for a long time. Held these sort of delusions about these characters concerning everything from prolonged emotional and physical entanglements to amusing notions of keeping up an actual friendship (even though all signs pointed to NOT FUCKING LIKELY).

I wasn't able to listen to any music on the way back home, on account of my broken phone. The radio stations on the Oregon Coast are hella po dunky, abundant country songs in which fellars are talking about their trucks, making margaritas, and going fishing. Maybe one or two, but just a little more of that shit makes me go off my rocker. I had listened to Lonesome Crowded West on the way up, so I was a little butt hurt I couldn't listen to more MM on the way back.

I wish people said butt hurt more. It would give us a nice excuse to think about anal sex. I mean.. uh, not think about it and pretend that we had.

Anyway, I sat in traffic for like an hour during which time I had calmed down enough to think of using a plastic card to pry the otterbox case off of my moist warm brand spanking new now obsolete hunk of pretty rose gold plastic. I finally got it off and it wasn't any better on the inside, some more water and no response to any sort of stimulus. Like me at night on the couch about thirty minutes into Interstellar.

I was bummed about the guy cancelling the date, though not incredibly surprised. That fact almost sadder than the actual event because I am now desensitized in such a way. Maybe that brings with it it's own joys?

Most everything else is pretty good.

I don't have any wise ending words tonight. It was Halloween today and I ran some errands and had pho with a friend. I just feel like hugging someone who loves me. I am ok though. You can't always have what you want and my arms wont forget how to work. 

Until next time you beautiful person you, expect great things.