Om mani padme hum.
People talk about the ‘third’ eye. That’s bull shit.
What they meant was that we all have a kaleidoscope in our brains. It just needs tapping into with good drugs. Meditation is never going to take you there. Trust me I have tried. All I got was eaten alive by mosquitos and cramped legs. Another myth debunked.
Another reason for losing weight, I want to get the wolf hounds off the trail. New teeth and 80 pounds off my rack will give me a fresh look. Throw on a wig, a skirt, high heels, the crack heads who want me dead will not even know me if they bump into me. I’m on stimulants now so I’ll just confront them. ‘Go and fuck yourselves.’ They will not know what has transpired, as they were only used to intimidating a wimp, not a bull whose balls are about to explode with testosterone.
Rosie is/was my neighbor. I tell her everything. She’s a good listener.
A widow and no spring chicken, Rosie was born in the late 1940’s and refuses to give up the ghost. ‘What do you mean, ‘give up the ghost,’ says Rosie as a mock form of admonishment. I tell Rosie that I am sure Big Corporations have been lacing my food with Estrogen.
Before I started the diet, I continued, ‘I was wearing training bras.’
I pull up my shirt and show her the red welts from the training bra.
'Pull your shirt down before I pinch your nipples.'
Rosie has a kinky side and confirms it with a wink and a smile exposing her hybrid of lower false teeth and jagged and jutting upper yellowish teeth.
‘Only fucking with you.’
Rosie suggests I get on with the narrative.
‘How about you fast forward it nearly four months,’ she says.
That can easily be done, I say.
But what about the previous four months, we just cannot skip it, can we?
‘All will be revealed in the future narrative, which when you think about it, is the present narrative.’
Rosie is so intuitive, sometimes and she is full of good old fashion common sense.
‘Not bad for a girl who never went to school?’
Not bad at all Rosie.
Rosie says do not get too skinny.
‘People will think you are a wimp.’
Good point.
I just like the idea of a total make over.
Losing weight is a big one.
Getting teeth done, another one.
Confidence, I have too much of it. Surely, I must be bipolar. Is there good medication for that shit? And once I get my new teeth, my confidence is going to be knocking down doors. Where I'm going, we don't knock.
Once I get those two root canals finished that have caused my face to swell up over the past year, I might look at the crowns the dentist is offering. The butcher from Manila didn't factor or even check the two teeth with incomplete root canals. And I'm paying for it now, I tell Dr. Pandev.
What if you break a tooth getting a crown off, I ask.
He just would not do something so silly like that, would he?
He is almost offended by the question. ‘Good question,’ he says and nothing else was explored. I suppose if I can cough up fifty-five grand, he will talk teeth, aesthetics, you fucking name it.
