Not Titled

A stream of consciousness. Nothing finished. A few things started. A stream of consciousness..what the heck does that even mean? My consciousness is streaming without interruption all day every day as far as I can surmise. Why is that process identified with brief and seemingly random observations? Like I bet very few people know that I am ocd about pictures hanging crooked on the wall. I am ocd about leaving my car and always have to count to three before walking away. if the count is sketchy i do it again. or that i can do multi-task thinking if need be and the need seems to always be. it takes more energy and thought to appear to be random. I, who am frequently random throughout any given day, become ordered and organized the minute i claim i will be random. it is a mystery to me. it is frustrating and like so many frustrating things it is impossible for me to keep the point of my frustration in focus leading to a mild, inexplicable discontent. all dressed up with nowhere to go comes to mind. i watched a little boy having a temper tantrum on youtube yesterday or the day before...the day is not pertinent to the telling...he was throwing down and using the word that rhymes with truck right at his dad. but his dad did not believe in spanking. i got nervous watching and felt my spanking trigger finger twitching on the handle of my short fused temper. oh lawd child, be glad that is your daddy. i know people came close to eating the likes of you back in the day when i was young, skinny and stoned. stoned in florida a fair amount of the time. a mellow jamaican kind of reefer and a bottle of cheap wine was enough to make the evening rest in peace. sitting on the porch watching not much of nothing when a squirrel ran by on one of the power lines. he became our mascot for a short time because that is all the time i gave to anything back in the day. i was always moving on and finding the sickest of the sick to hitch my star to back then. back to being stoned...i remember someone stopped by our house one day with seven ounces of reefer he said would mess up your mind and he did not want to be so messed up that he could not talk or think his own thoughts so he was gifting us with the reefer hoping we could ride it for the count or maybe beyond. but it stewed our brains immediately. no howdy ma'am or what's up? just took a few hits and then forgot what was going on around myself and i remember thinking if i could ever come down from that smoke i would not be doing it again and my partner agreed without reservation. about a day later the guy rides up on his motorcycle and asked how we like the reefer, and we giggle a lot, get serious, and the reefer that he could not handle becomes the reefer he is relieved to find out we still had and did not want. He tucked the seven ounces, short a tad, under his arm, pulled his leather motorcycle jacket on, put his helmet on his head, revved the engine and rode away and this is the truth. we never saw him again. he lived in an old school bus he had remodeled a bit and rode that motorcycle and did not appear to have a job so who knows. i don't remember his name...if I ever knew it. 
long as i am telling tales from the past i will tell this one which happened when i was still in florida, still in the same house and still with the same man. i have always met "interesting" people when left to my own devices. i met a man with long, flowing and very red hair. he was tall and had a full build on him. could easily have been a heck of a bouncer. he had a flaming red beard and he drove a bright yellow hearse. he possessed a vivid personality and when he showed up in our driveway, he freaked my boyfriend out. i received a look like who is this fellow and is he an undercover cop? paranoia always lurks in the heart of people who use drugs but i was naive and rarely thought to think of those things. in later years when i was no longer doing drugs, for a time, i did become exceptionally paranoid for very different reasons. but back to "big ed". He did not smoke pot or drink. He developed an unnerving way of bursting into our place saying, "wake up, hippies!" going through to the kitchen and fixing us a full breakfast. i have no idea who he really was to this day. i know he was in love with a woman who he was watching from afar, clandestine like stuff. she had a beau and this drove "big ed" insane. he said she was such a love and he wanted us to meet her and we did but i remember very little of it. the situation was so odd and out of place that i had no context to place this man, his hearse or his love for this woman so i just accepted him as best i knew how and he became part of our lives for a short while. always showed up unannounced. depressed at times. content at times. always talking of this woman and always lurking around her place. over the years i have decided that none of that story was true. i think he was some kind of an agent or dea but we were not on his radar. we did not know anyone who would be on his radar or, i should say, he never knew who we knew. one day he rode out of our lives, and we never saw him again. that was the theme of my life for many years. intense relationships of all sorts and then gone...poof! either i booked or they booked. it was the early 70's and nothing like today at all. 
i may talk about "crazy ed" one day but not today. he was a cat of another color for sure and i don't want to give him space in my head at the moment. 
streaming redirected. over and out!