i danced my way through the liquor store to my usual destination, the harder spirits. but i turned into the vitamin aisle this time. take care of your gut health, said the voice inside me. i saw a convincing ad about that. opinions and ads, that’s all we see these days and i didn’t care much for the opinions for they amount to telling you how shitty you’re supposed to feel as opposed to how shitty you really feel. Embrace technology, as they say.
i watched a dude in an ironed button up and slacks with peeling sneakers that used to be another color. a liar. he had some product in his hair and lurked the vitamin aisle convincingly in worry of his health. i’m a liar too, i thought and searched for probiotics. gut bacteria to fight worse gut bacteria. i wasn’t too sure how bad of a condition my actual gut was in, but that i hacked blood after i vomitted. usually. ulcer’s, i thought, all those years of hell-spicy foods and acidic nectars have finally found me. but it could be gut bacteria. i didn’t give a fuck because i had already tried alternatives. the hippie peace and love, the monkish abstaination, and the scientifically peer reviewed pills. the thought that it could be gut bacteria sounded like a fit because i was already so used to trying to do the right thing and getting it wrong. it seemed fitting that a simple solution would be the last place i looked. after all, an old buddy of mine, theorized the soul lived in our bellies with a stray dog and a ham sandwich. he’s dead now of course, but he neared 80 years old when he croaked and left everyone in love, so he knew a few things.
I found the probiotics in the womens fitness section. i didn’t feel emasculated standing there for 10 minutes looking for the right germs. i thought my soul was female and my body was male anyway. all that gender shit people fight about these days, i write off as a waste of time. because it is. so’s the color fight. everybody of race or creed or whatever the fuck they like labelling themselves with, all look like self righteous assholes until they want to bloom from the turd they call a life. me including. i grabbed the pills, and danced my way back to booze alley. bourbon. some smelly dude was trying to pick out wine and was in my way, but i rushed past him to grab my bottle and split. i didn’t care why what or for whom he was looking for wine, but only that he smelled, i didn’t like it, and moved faster to get my shit done so i could leave. in the check out line i let him go ahead because he had an icecream cone in his hand. i let him go ahead because his icecream cone would melt, and i felt bad about being downdraft from the air conditioner pushing his smell onto me. opinions and ads.
i placed the probiotics then the booze on the counter in front of the cute check out girl i checked out. i said, ‘for my health, and for my loneliness.’ she laughed. i was funny again. i brought life back to life again. we talked about disco and a lady named gaga. the world was still flushing but a speck of me managed to cling to the bowl for a little bit longer.