I tend to overthink. It gets in the way of my writing, which I’d like to do more of. So I went to the store and I bought a beer. I bought six. And I’m going to think less and just write. They come in six. I won’t be drinking six. I don’t know how many I’ll drink. My hair is long. 

I went to the grocery store for ground beef. On the way there I talked to myself and kept myself company. I think I’m quite lonely. I talked about relationships and needing to feel seen. I talked about not making myself visible as someone who wants that. I talked about how I didn’t believe I should have to, but knew better. I talked about maybe I need too much, or I suppose want. Because I am seen. I’m seen everyday. But there’s a difference between what we think and what we know. Then I got to the grocery store. 

A gentleman asked if I needed his cart as he finished loading in the parking lot. I didn’t need it, I was only there for ground beef. I took his cart and thought about walking it over to the Cart Corral right in front of him. Then I thought about how it was 10pm. I must look friendly. I went through the front door with the cart I didn’t need, and forgot what I was there for. 

Ground beef. Like a pound or something. Ground beef, frozen veg, and a curry cube. Over rice. That’s dinner. 

Food is hard for me. I don’t have a lot of vices but food is definitely one of them. I’m on another round of trying to do better without doing so good it’s actually bad. Estimate caloric intake without doing granular hyper-analysis. I’m very critical. Just of myself. And of power – but that’s another thing. I’m critical but not motivated. That’s how it feels, though I think that’s too simple. I’m motivated by others. It’s the whole want to be seen thing. Or need to be. Outside and personal motivation just does more for me. It’s a big reason I work in the field I do. Being seen is what it’s all about. For me and my clients. 

I grabbed a pack of imitation crab. Krab. I couldn’t remember if I preferred flakes or chunks. Then couldn’t believe I had a preference. Konnoisseur. Went for chunks. I’d house this in the kar. I had two things in my kart, but wasn’t ready to go back home. 

I took a lap. Circling the forbidden center aisles and pretending to be looking for something. I peered down the Asian aisle as it vaguely called to me. Pretty sure I needed something there but unwilling to venture. I looped around the store once. Resisting the urge to grab a charcuterie board to demolish. 

On my second lap. For some reason this is when I decided I should just sit down and write. About this, probably. The title popped into my head as I sullenly gazed at the baked goods. I started to think about why I hadn’t written yet. I have this web domain. It just drained another annual $90 three months ago. I should use it. But I have nothing to add. People don’t want to hear from me. My perspective is not one which is in some kind of lacking. And acknowledging that feels even more derivative. We all heard Gaffigan’s Hot Pocket bit. But I heard the same bit done by a 12 year old at a summer camp campfire once. And I remember he and his dad beaming with pride and recognition when I told them it was one of my favorites, that he did it justice. 

I really need the shit I do to be perfect. I don’t want to workshop or display anything less than what I believe to be my full potential. Don’t get ahead of myself. Don’t overthink. Just write about the grocery store. 

I was crying in the produce section for some reason. I grabbed some jalapeños and noticed Safeway now sells ghost peppers and Carolina reapers. Feels almost irresponsible. The practical applications cannot possibly justify selling these. And so many. Each packet contained at least half a dozen of the single hottest peppers on the face of the planet. I’m probably wrong, but I’ll stick to putting jalapeños on my cream cheese bagels. 

I grabbed some frozen veggies. We have some at home but these were 3 for $4. Then I got some beer. Lagunitas. Because I enjoy Mexican lager but I also enjoy that IPAs actually function as beers (get me drunk). So best of both worlds. More IPA than lager but flavor profile whatever whatever. 

On my way out of the store I bought a sandwich and a Gatorade for a friend of mine from the shelter. He hangs out in the doorway on cold nights. We saw each other.