Anybody want to by a Tivo?

I bought some pants.

All is right with the world.

(Allthough the typo that I just corrected said, I bought some pant…..ironic huh? Because if I left it that way…..all would not be right in the world. Deep man…..deep.)

We found the missing pot last night and I smoked out of a bong for the first time in my life. What a sheltered girl I am.

I want to buy more pant.

That is all to report from cindigodotcom.

Here’s more stuff that I wrote weeks ago………

For reasons that I will not go into right now, I am in the mountains of Colorado where I will be for at least the next twenty days. I will spend most of those days (and nights) in a casino. Yes, I know, your saying, “Cindigo! What in the hell are you doing? Is this some hair brained scheme?” My reply would be,” Why yes it is some hair brained scheme and this time, when I yell, “IT’S SO CRAZY IT JUST MIGHT WORK!” I think it just might.

I went to sleep last night with this sound replaying from the fourteen hours of casino exposure:

“BONG BONG BONG BONG…chi ching chi ching….CLANG CLANG CLANG….bing bing bong bong bing bing bing…bingbing…bing bing bong bong bing bing bing….bingbing.”

This is our second day here. There are alot of old people. I dislike to be ageist, but to tell you the truth, most old people bug me.

———

and that is all I wrote for the next twenty some days. I’m sure if I can, and probably at a later date will, tell some pretty funny stories about wanting to commit suicide/homicide, sensory depravation/overload, being slowly and methodically food poisoned and sleep deprived….but for now, I’ll just move on.

———–

fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…….

there, now I feel a little bit better. I resolve to write something……..something…….whatever…….and then it gets later and later and I do this or that……then I end up not writing anything.

I went to see a movie that I can’t remember the title (Adaptation-I asked) and drank a dark, vanilla-ey beer. Now I am back at Mr. X’s house rummaging through a large metal desk looking for some pot that his ex swears should be there.

We have been cleaning up and packing his stuff for the last two days. Ex X left a considerable amount of stuff behind. Is it wrong of me to envision her dead and think that it terrible that such a young life was tragically cut short by that swift and lethal AMTrak train every time I fold a piece of her clothes and put it in a cardboard box? Is it wrong for me to feel better when Mr. X refers to her as “Mike” instead of her given girl name?

On a brighter note….finally….I yelled “THIS IS SO CRAZY IT JUST MIGHT WORK!”, and it seems to have worked.

Did I mention that Mr. X is a professional gambler? Oh, I didn’t? Well he is. Have I mentioned Mr. X at all? Not really? Well, I’ll just start telling random stories, and maybe at some point, it will become cohesive. We came to Colorado for two reasons, the first, to participate in a Christmas promotion at one of the casinos that he frequents and came away with….do I dare say the dollar amount….I probably shouldn’t…..because if I did, you guys would be expecting big ass late Christmas presents, and I’m really just too lazy. Let’s just say that my credit card bills and my property taxes are paid.

The second, is to move him to Detroit. That is the second part of a three part hair brained scheme that “IS SO CRAZY JUST MIGHT WORK!” Phase One: obtain a bunch of money….check. Phase Two: move Mr. X to Detroit….in process. Phase Three: Cindigo and Mr. X move to Austin Texas and live happily ever after….. beginning March or April…..or May….or sometime before it starts to get cold again.

Oh fuck it, I want to say it…..we fucking came back with $22,000.00 cash money millionaire……and with the way that I’ve been spending money this past year, my cut, puts me at about even.

Mr. X is now cleaning out the office and I’m laying on the bed watching him pull things out of a metal desk and throw them into into either the Salvation Army or garbage box. His ex is supposed to be coming over soon to pick up the rest of her boxes. Mr. X has been has been trying to stay out of the house for the last two days to avoid the awkward situation of the current girlfriend meeting the ex-girlfriend scenario. Tonight he has tired of driving me around in the brown van, said “fuck it, I’m too tired”, and now we are here.

Mr. X has just decided to keep a stack of papers pertaining to lock picking and bypassing other security devices and a laser pointer that has different attachments that makes the pointer a star, angel or a cartoon hand making the peace sign. From a stack of papers he pulled out the John Hersey HIgh class of ‘89 ten year reunion book. He did not attend the reunion….but I did. Besides grade school and one year of middle school, we also went to high school together. We only went to one year of middle school together because I was a juvenile delinquent and had to transfer schools.

Ex girlfriend is has just arrived. Not bad. She’s cute….but not too cute. Nice, but spacey. Cindigo definitely does not feel threatened.

*cindigo is smiling….being polite……and silently cabbage patching in her head*

Now is the time at cindigo dot com where we stop rambling on and do something else in the real world.

Why would you be planning and telling people you are comming to Austin in late Feb. when SXSW is the begining of March?

It just don’t make no durn sense.

-Here is some stuff that I wrote three weeks ago. I haven’t re-read it, and maybe some of it is confusing, out of context, and just doesn’t make sense, but, whatever…..such is the way of my life.

Nebraska is flat.

I am in a brown van, driving through flat Nebraska heading twards mountainous Colorado.

I haven’t written in a while. I don’t like it….I don’t like it a bit.

A few days ago, I was in Green Bay Wisconsin at Mr. X’s parent’s house for Thanksgiving.
I needed a few things from the drugstore. I ran in while Mr. X waited in the van. I was in line and in front of me on the rack of last minute things they try to make you buy was a small fake television about 6″ x 6″. It was pink and had a sculpted face of a cartoon cow in all of it’s shiny schlaked glory. The fake television was actually a radio and when you tuned in a station, the cow’s hinged mouth would talk, sing or open and close in time to modulating static. You would think the country would be tired of singing and dancing Christmas trees, fish, and other random personified objects, but, I digress.

I was standing in line waiting and playing with this thing, and I turned to the woman in front of me to point out this obscene and funny item. She was old, and later I realized, most probably senile. When our eyes connected, she asked me if I knew where the batteries were. She was clutching a fist full of coupons cut out from the weekly annoying six page junk mailers that are sent out to ever person with a mailing address. So, she’s looking at me like a lost puppy, exasporated and bewildered. I turn my attention from the singing cow and tell her that I think the batteries are in a seperate section. I turn around, see them on the wall and say, “Oh, hey, there they are”. She shoves the coupon at me and says, “I need this kind, they’re on sale.” I was a little annoyed and had a small desire to kick her walker out from underneath her skinny old lady bird legs, but, that passed within miliseconds and I took the coupon and walked over to the wall of batteries. The only kind they had left were rechargeable. I didn’t think the woman had, or even knew what a battery charger was. I brought them back and tried to explain that these were the only kind they had. Why I just didn’t tell her they were out of what she needed was an option that I didn’t think of until later.

She shuffles further twards the register. I grab a pack of ten batteries that were six more that she had in her hand, and a dollar cheaper than what she was going to pay, even with her coupon. I tried to explain the concept. She looked at me and then through me and said, “I know, but it’s too late, it’s just too late. I had a coupon, but I don’t have a coupon for that one”. The register to the right of us opens up and I walk away feeling bad because I feel no compasion for this woman.

Mr. X and I are going to be in Colorado for a month. We have the brown van packed full of important items such as: a juicer, a red “fit ball” for rolling, a propane cooking stove and gallons upon gallons of reverse osmosis filtered water (because I have recently realized that I am a water snob).

Mr. X is from Colorado.

Another reason I haven’t been writing is that I really don’t know how to introduce Mr. X into my stories. He has no context. It seems like he just showed up out of no where and now factors into everything I do because we are always together. And really, that’s pretty much what happened….

Mr. X and I went to kindergarden together. Is that fucking cute or what. It’s so fucking cute it makes me swear to make you think that although I think it is cute and mushy, I am tough and hard, and have the innate ability to curse like a sailor.

I don’t wan’t to sound like one of those girly girls that starts out ever sentence with, “My boyfried and I….”. I know that I won’t, and still, some part of me is overcompensating. Also, the stories that I used to have time to sit down and write, now get told to Mr. X, and then, since they are already told, I don’t feel like retelling them.

——-

I just returned a call from an old friend. We used to work together two years ago. I’ve only talked to him probably four times in the last two years. There were two blurry slurred messages on my phone that I couldn’t decipher. All I could make out was “sorry to call so late” and “good friends are hard to find”. When I finally got a hold of him today, four days after the first inital message, he was just as slurry and blurry as the message. I was worried and my first thought was to call 911 to come and pick him up. Over the years, I’ve poked and joked about his drinking and drug use, knowing that he didn’t want to deal with it, but not being able to ignore it completely. He told me he had been “partying” for at least the last four days.

In his fuzzy and weepy condition, I couldn’t understand the whole story. I got, “friend overdosed and died, broke up with girlfriend he loves, and cocaine, percoset and Hennesey”. It was a painful conversation with me trying to push him in the direction of him getting help for himself and him not wanting to. I tried not to push to much, because it was obvious that he didn’t want to, and me just listening was more important. He kept talking about death and dying, “It’s either the morgue or the hospital”. He said he was tired and scared and couldn’t take it anymore. He just wanted to sleep forever. I told him I understood, that I had been there, that everything was going to be okay. We ended the conversation with him getting out of bed, making some food and calling me after he took a shower.

I don’t know what I’m going to tell him after he gets out of the shower. Probably more of the same. More of the same that while I’m telling him, I can tell myself, “Everything is fine. People care about you, let them.”

I’M BACK, I’M BACK, I’M BACK, I’M BACK, I’M BACK, I’M BACK, I’M BACK, I’M BACK, I’M BACK, I’M BACK!!!!!

Well, almost. I am down from the mountain. I’ll be back in Detroit in a week. For right now, I’m in Lakewood Colorado. I have clean socks, a fast connection and am not dehydrated and dizzy from being elevated 9,000 feet.

Life is good.

MIss me?

Ok, This is not Cindigo Typing this message….
This is her sister N2sing.
She called me and said that her many many friends are worried about her since no one has heard from her…. She told me to write a quick little note to tell everyone she is FINE.
She is in the wonderful mountains of Colorado and because of these wonderful mountains she has no cel signal and is unable to call anyone…. So yes she is fine and will get back to updating everyone as soon as possible…. I can not give you an exact date as to her return although it better be before Christmas…
Bye
Me… A.K.A N2sing(the sister)