i was i LA a week or so ago and walked up on two ex-lovers having a conversation. i didn’t catch much but i did hear the phrase, “slippery slope” fall from both of their mouths, almost at the same time. it made me uncomfortable, the way hearing something not meant for your ears makes you feel: weird. uneasy. like i was intruding. in truth, no one can MAKE us feel any certain way. we hear, we see, we evaluate and react based on our own (sometimes) uncomfortable set of truths that comprise who we are at any give moment in time.
the feeling of malaise followed me back to austin. i needed a fix. i needed to not feel. i needed a diversion. and so i went thrifting. i made several quick stops at my fave thrift haunts, and finally settled in at St. Vincent de Paul on south congress avenue. i don’t know how long i was actually there, but it was enough time to lose myself completely and the weird feeling i was running from. i rummaged downstairs in the clothes section. i cried. i found a beaten up, vintage white belt that any rock n roller would drool over. i found a tiny, gold metallic clutch that i could sell for some serious cash. up the stairs, i found a 1950‘s incubator light that was meant to be a haven for unhatched chicken eggs, its eventual destiny becoming a super groovy/postmodern floor lamp situated in an empty corner of my house. i smiled. i found this, i found that and i found myself again by the time i left.
©littlebrownbutterfly
<3
love you, e.