Not long after my last blog post, I fell asleep in the front seat of my car in a mall parking lot. I wasn’t sure what the etiquette was of sleeping in your car in this mall parking lot — it did seem a bit swank and the structure was enclosed — but I was exhausted beyond the ability to consider my pride or any assumed judgment from strangers passing by.
It was so hot when I first got in the car that I spent a decent amount of time rolling the windows down and back up, deciding what I was comfortable with — both socially and logically. Eventually I decided I would rather not breathe the exhaust that inevitably trailed by and sealed up my windows before passing out. As I was drifting off, I wondered if I could die from heat exhaustion this way. If I was overheating while I was sleeping, would it wake me up? I inadvertently took the risk and woke up an hour later.
The other day, while I was tumbling around town with no place to go, I wondered if I died right then would it be labeled as “Homeless Woman Dies” in the paper. Not in LA, I guess. That’s not the kind of thing that gets its own story. I’d get an obituary in my hometown for sure and I would be remembered. There, just talked myself out of that one.
Anyway I woke up sticky, drenched in my own sweat, laying in a car that I had slept in (and also peed out of the side of) for the past two nights, and decided that I had never wanted a shower more in my life. I’m not typically a huge shower fan, so I ran with this urge while it was hot. I texted a good friend with a nice place in Silver Lake. Little did I know, that shower and the comfort of my friend’s home would snap me back into a domesticated, house pet version of myself that prefers to be inside.
I have rented a couple of spots and crashed with friends, mostly trying to make the most of the time I have left with my paintings in California. When I have rented places, it is specifically so I can be alone with my paintings and get some work done to them before I go to Southern Illinois. I’m leaving them in storage, giving them a rest for a month before I pick them back up with new inspiration and gusto. This trip home is about having a new experience every day, so I can return to my ongoing loves when it is our time.
Tomorrow or Tuesday we will be leaving for our road trip to Illinois. How nonlinear is time when you disconnect from the game and spend your days floating like an astronaut, lost in orbit, who has forgotten their mission and cannot get back into contact with home. Only I have just now remembered my mission; it is no coincidence that I am soon to return to my birthplace.