Stop the Train! Red-Light District Rage.

Wow. Mini epiphany just now. It’s no wonder people don’t know what I’m talking about half the time. I’m trying to really practice slowing down, balance and awareness of my thought process. I just consciously back-tracked through about 30-60 seconds of my train of thought, and I wasn’t quite sure why I did, until now.

Here it goes. No offense meant…just my first trick or treater, my Caffeinated Squirrel, who I happened to name ‘Nut Job’, just visited me for some Chex Mix and it’s on my mind. He did the ‘Corpse’ Yoga pose and dressed up as Emotionally Stable.

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I was sitting by the window, rolling tabacco. Something triggered a minor burst of rage. I began mocking the judgement of someone and accidentally blurted out expletives in a French Accent out the window. Facial expressions included.

Then I laughed, turned to my friend, who has been through it all like me, and say, “I sound like I belong in a French Nut House. Wouldn’t you love to eventually experience that? It’d be like the Red Light District for Nut Jobs, Moulin Rouge style, because you of all people know how WE can dance.”

Then I rolled back about 15 years, and reminisced about an actual Art Seminar in Paris. I began to question whether we actively sought out the Red Light District or simply got lost in our drunken shenanigans. I asked my bff if she remembered, knowing fully well she wouldn’t understand where it was coming from. But I found it important to ask for some unknown reason.

 

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Turns out, at the exact time, she was having a dream about our trip to Paris and of us sitting in an ice cream parlor.

True story.

I am beginning to see the stops on this crazy train, folks. 😂👠👑

Telepathy is real but note – be careful who you tell because you may just end up in lockdown because you admitted it.

Peace.

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