reading up on anxiety, after another few days of racing heart and stomach knots. per the prescription for nutritional healing:
generalized aniety disorder can begin at any age, but the onset typically occurs in one’s twenties or thirties.
ran into david and his pal’s dog sandy on sunday. sandy is a 13-year-old friendly white-yellow lab who wears running shoes when she goes out. (pictured above.)
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
did you know about dog running shoes?! WTH. sounds cute, and expensive. apparently sandy gets excited whenever you put on her running shoes. and also gets excited when you take off the running shoes. i was like, sandy, you should write a book.
speaking of great songs: ty segall, “you make the sun fry,” off his new record goodbye bread.
found this in the comments section on a music blog. what a great day for this reader.
me was the one working. and ross looks kind of bored here. but that’s just the pillow talking.
someone winning two "the dude endures" pint glasses at intermission
last night, my friend dan and i drove to alpine for alpine’s version of an alamo drafthouse big lebowski night: people in costume get in free, $5 white russians all night, $10 for entry, including a buffet inspired by the movie. there were about…20ish people there, 6 or 7 in costume. buffet included tater tot casserole (much stranger and less delicious than it sounds, hard to determine its exact contents in the dark), seven-layer dip (heavy on the sour cream), spinach dip, mini hot dogs, swedish meatballs, spam crackers, ritz crackers, cheese balls, celery sticks stuffed with peanut butter and raisins. at intermission they gave out door prizes, one of which dan won ($20 gift card to the saddle club, the bar next door). small town version of big town events. humble, sweet, kind of weird, a little squirrelly, very good-hearted. home by 11. thumbs up.
things i like:
low-cut tops on men and women. i will never (rarely) say no to another button being unbuttoned.
things i don’t like:
the word bougie. once this guy i was dating used “bougie” to describe my bike bag. MEH. and someone just described santa fe as “bougie,” as in “how was santa fe?” “oh you know — good, bougie.” i’m like, [askance look]
p.s. finally talked with that therapist again. it was our first real session (first was sort of a vetting). in this session, she “psychically” intuited that i’m a functional alcoholic. whoa. dear therapist, i am psychically feeling thou might be fired. and me might be scared to drink for the next 1400 years.
lately i’m obsessed with my own face, i want to take pictures of it all the time. NOT BRAGGING. but it’s older looking, in some weird way, which is cool and startling and more startling. i think it’s a weird compulsion to document the change. this was a picture i was taking for DOGGELGANGER, but the internet didn’t work, so i couldn’t send it to myself, and therefore couldn’t see what dog looks like me. but excellent excuse to take dorky accidental-pursed-lips photos of myself.
in other news, i just bookmarked oprah’s website, prompted by googling something about facial hair and finding the article, “7 things nobody tells you about aging,” which made me feel a weird combo of relief/”oprah speak truth to power”/tenderness towards oprah/tenderness towards aging person facial hair.
best song title of late: low’s “nothing but heart.” the lyrics:
I would be your king
But you wanna be free
Confusion and art
I’m nothing but heart
right now i’m feeling shimmery on the inside, rejuvenated in some small way. i think it’s a combination of six things:
in other news, a sad song, “no more workhorse blues,” by will oldham. just rediscovered it today in my music research.
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