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Showing posts with label feet. Show all posts
Showing posts with label feet. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 30, 2013

Monkey Mind and Fascist Feet







My monkey mind really gets going around 2 a.m. on sleepless nights. Or mornings, as the case may be.

An infomercial about orthotics was on TV last night and I thought it was the most interesting thing I’d ever seen and I wanted to turn on the lamp and find a pen and paper to write down the location and phone number of this magical place that could make all bodily pain disappear by putting something in my shoes.

I couldn’t get up to take notes any more than I could get up when I thought I smelled smoke because I was just…so…tired. For that problem I just prayed that my kitchen wasn’t on fire while the infomercial host talked about something that sounds like planter fascists. I know I have foot problems, but I’d never considered that they might be fascists. Now I'm pretty sure they are, as they do try to rule the rest of me, and when I disagree with them and try to wear cute shoes, I'm tortured for days.

And the noises, the noises that time of night. Mostly cat noises, I’m sure, but you never really know.

There could have been a stranger-burglar in the house knocking things around, looking for something…maybe a pen and paper ‘cause his feet hurt too.

Maybe the stranger-burglar was smoking or lit a candle and that’s why I was praying the kitchen wasn’t on fire, and if it was a stranger-burglar who smoked or lit candles, I hoped he was careful because the cat already has a bald spot on her chin because of hovering a little too close to a flame.

I studied the infomercial more intently so I could just remember the name of this place that I wanted to give my money to and also to try and block thoughts of everything that could be happening outside my bedroom.

Then I noticed that infomercials do not have commercial breaks. If they did, would they be 60 second clips of Modern Family? Revenge? Who knows.

I’m going to bed. 



Do silly thoughts race through your mind in the wee hours?