I’ve seen more planes than usual out my window tonight. Lots of little beepity beep beeping lights out the window in red and white. I guess white? Like lightning. But not when it’s pink or blue lightning.

I don’t like flying through the clouds. It makes me uncomfortable. Like we’re going to have a mid-air head on collision. Oops sorry gang I didn’t even see that 747. these darn clouds!

Flying is still a magical concept to me. Like some guy- the one with the orange coveralls and the dueling lightsabers comes over and maybe puts a spell on the plane. Or does a sacred interpretive dance with his lightsaber. Or sprinkles some magic dust on the wings. And wheeeeee! We’re ready for take off.

I’m convinced that there is a higher/supernatural power involved.

The lady diagonal from me is only millimeters from needing a seat belt extender- A concept that I find fascinating. I’m also captivated in a perverse way by how tight her gold watch is on that sausage wrist. The skin on the fingers so taut like her skin is spandex. This repulses me. But I can’t stop looking. She is reading a very long book. It’s definitely not the Count of Monte Cristo. Maybe patricia Cornwell or anne rivers siddons. She keeps fucking getting up and fiddling with some weird food items that look like dried mushrooms she has stored in the overhead. I also noticed Chinese takeout containers stowed under her seat. I’m still praying that she doesn’t get a craving mid-flight. It’s fucking gross when people start eating something really pungent on a plane. Jesus. It’s one thing to not be able to make it through a 50 minute flight without a snack, it’s quite another to contaminate the entire cabin with the foul stench of wok and roll’s kitten meat version of general tso’s chicken.

This is what airplanes do to me when I’m already anxious.

All of the impatience and dicking around in the terminal comes to an ugly and very negative head..

I can’t handle the concept of flights getting overbooked. And further to that, when the people at the gate let more people than there are seats onto the plane. I’m serious. There is too much technology running peoples’ lives these days for unmistakable logistical glitches like this to occur.

So much hostility tonight.

Acerbic even.


Messages I’d like to leave/send:

Dear family: please do not pick me apart this weekend. I am feeling good and happy about life and do not need any unwarranted criticisms or youshoulds or whydon’tyous disguised as niceties and itsonlybecauseweloveyous. Please do not tell me you don’t like my hair. Or say “look at that outfit… you’re a trip!” in that very condescending my-conservative-sweater-combo-is-better-than-that-very-over-the-top-ensemble-you-have-pieced-together kind of way that you know just how to do. Please do not ask me about my love life or if I’m dating anyone. Chances are that if I met someone that I was crazy about, you would all know by now. And if you really want to know, for the last 6 months I’ve been indiscriminantly fucking greater manhattan. Just kidding. but seriously. The last three nights of “love” I’ve had involved a bathroom and/or serious lack of sobriety. Please do not ask me all about my job and then invalidate my response (positive or negative) by saying “well, you’ve got to do the time!” this does not in any way improve upon the fact that I work 80 hours a week for shit pay.

And now my battery is dying.

Probably good.