my rope. end of it. me. hello.
yesterday’s first french press: 4am, first spin class: 6am……….end of last class: 9:40pm
complete sentences ceased around noon; caveman tongue takes less energy and faculty.
spin class: gear…more…..bike……….must go faster………..
pilates class: stomach ……be flat…… leg……lift higher……..good…….
last week a girl fainted in my saturday pilates class. we were doing standing leg series at the wall. i swear i saw brain as her eyes slot machined back into her forehead. i haven’t been able to shake the fear of someone fainting now. every time i ask them to stand, huge waves of panic crash over me. i’m convinced they’re all going to faint. all at the same time. dominos. instead of watching pelvic girdles and ribcages, i’m looking at everyone’s eyes terrified they’re about to lose conciousness. they think i want to make out. i will if you PROMISE not to faint!!!!
thank god i’m able to push the morphine starbucks button every two hours: more coffee!! more coffee!! more coffee!! more coffee!!! venti! venti!! venti! maybe if i say it in russian or chinese they’ll go bigger than the venti?!?!? i’d like a giant ass’d, extra-hot, mutha-fuckin, black, non-sweetened, no-room for cream drip……please.
(twice) i, furiously, busted out of my driver’s seat, only to be thwacked right back in by my seat belt………of course with others watching.
so here i go again, on this last day of the week. second french press of the day. my hair doesn’t frizz, but i’m convinced my eyeballs do. frizzy eyeball girl. tis moi. all i know for oprah-sure is that i can’t stop buzz~buzz~buzzing; and all i want to do is drown in creamy, white sheets.
for now, i’m going to just sit here for a moment in my “hand” chair and regain a little composure.