i taste good

so, i wwanted to write while i was high, just to read it later. i think i'll leave the typos in, that'll add to it. it's fucking hot here. santa ana winds. i'm sitting here on the bed, with laptop, joe is feeding me black cherry ice cream, the ceiling fan in on full blast. my nose is dry from the weather and my throat was dry from the hash. i stood up on the bed and sucked the dust off the ceiling fan with vacuum. fun when your high. i stood in the kitchen and talked with the kids about i can't quite remember right now. joe had a bad asthma attack yesterday. it scares me. he's stubborn. he coughed and wheezed all night and then this morning he let me take him to urgent care. we were in and out pretty quick, the doctor was cute, four presriptions, finger shaking at joe, sideways looks at me. oh, i remember, we talked about my son's girlfriend's toothache. i need a shower. one of those kinds of showers. i got a little drunk friday afternoon. me and my girlfriend sitting on the front porch, talking shit and glass dildos. my girl just came home. from seeing her husband. she's wearing a t-shirt that says "i love strippers". i tell her that it surprises me that they would let her in to visit wearing that shirt. she says "oh, the cops love it. i just tell them "it's a mutual thing, they like me too". she fucking slays me. i'm telling ya. the dog is licking cocoa butter off my leg, then looks at me with his eyes full of cataracts. i wonder if i look gray to him. well, at least i taste good. i love the sound of the windchimes. my girl gave me one made from thin pieces of shell. they and light and move with the slightest breeze. the sound they make is gentle. some nights when i wake and hear them i somtimes wonder if it's raining. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ now i'm not high and it still makes sense to me.