A Not So Blissful Little Day’s Adventure

I had found all my lost, forgotten sketchbooks and was ready to sketch my idea in one before painting it, when I discovered I didn’t have a pencil. So I took a photo in seated meditation with the sketchbooks, but later on I realized the way my hair fell looked like I had intentionally worn a very asymmetrical haircut, and I don’t want one myself, and the enlightened, meditating llama on my top was contrasting with my more pissed off mood at the time and making me look even more pissed off, and usually our moods would better match.

Before I went off to buy a pencil, I thought I wanted to pick up a particularly delightfully antique, tiny golden-yellow book of poems that I saw at the library the first time I went. When I stood and looked at the books on the shelves, the book was nowhere to be found.

But more forgotten things were discovered: two shelves of part poetry, part literary criticism books which had looked at first like only criticism, so these poetry shelves extended too like the ones at Barnes and Noble.

Good, good, but my little old golden-yellow poetry book was nowhere to be found—either someone borrowed it (I’d be happy if it was this), or it was lost.

I thought then, what if I just threw all these books off the shelves at the library and everywhere?

But I didn’t have enough hatred in me or for the other books to make me feel like doing this and wouldn’t anyway, but the idea was amusing.

I took a book of poems that looked decently old, but not old and also enjoyable once I’d opened it and read up til the middle of a poem and then I browsed fiction; I took off the shelf two novels by Ernest Hemingway who I’d remembered having a pissed off way about his writing. I felt I wanted to take them then and I’d still like to read them now, happy I am. So I went right back in the library and returned right then the book of poems after reading a few in dismay and brought the Hemingways home.

I cooked dinner, began to eat, and then I was feeling happy. And then a little while after this, I began to choke on my food. I was just recently CPR/ First Aid/ AED certified and I was trying to communicate with gestures that I couldn’t breathe.

(Note: If a person is choking or might be having difficulty breathing, ask them and check because if they don’t reply with their voice/speech they probably can’t breathe.) But I was able to be seen around then as choking, unable to talk, and around and up, I could breathe again. That is wonderful.

And I will buy a box of pencils tonight; I need just one in that box to sketch my idea in one of my books, and that idea is still fresh and vibrant in my mind.

This morning:

The First Painted Fiction I Read and A Paintbrush to Hold

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