Sort of Out of Sorts
I am angry, I am sad. I am hungry. I feel sick. I have a headache, my left arm is tingling heart-attack-style, and it's way way way too hot in this room. I want to cry, I want to throw up, I want to lift my skirt to total strangers the way I did when I was four. I want to get the hell out of here and also go home home, but only if I can take my cat, and only if she'll behave herself like a good little moppet. I am excited, I am scared out of my wits, I am eagerly awaiting the Next Big Thing, which damn well better rock my face off lest I blow it away with this here sawed-off shotgun. These days, the only thing I hate more than waking up is going to bed; how can my own thoughts compete with midnight, 1 a.m., 2 a.m., and Blind Date, Elimidate, and Cheaters, starring that assface Joey Greco? Now there's a guy I'd like to throw under a bus. I want to sing, I want to scream, I want to teach a little kid how to read. I want to go to my cousin's wedding next week. I want to be able to write without editing getting in the way (Is that a hyphen or an en dash? I think we need to fix the leading and tracking...maybe kern the I and the U, bring them closer together, do you think? Very punny, jackass.). I want to be funny like other people are funny. I want to use my iPod for a pacemaker. I want to stop the furrowing and the hostility that comes with it.
I'm glad for many things: going to LA with Teddy, meeting Secret Agent Josephine, maybe kidnapping someone if he doesn't put up too much of a fight. Strawberries are in season and it's paint-your-toenails-red weather, and I have a gift certificate to a fancy hat store in San Francisco. My mom and I have convinced my dad to join us in Italy this July. Today I walked around work in bare feet.
Some things are moving, some things are stuck. Some things I'd like to hold against my chest until my arms hurt, and some things I'd like to keep squeezing until there's no more life to them. There's violence in love and tenderness in hate and the hope of creation buried in the desire to destroy. I'm all turned around and, once I get my neck properly stretched, I'm off to find some sand to bury my head in.
Remember when I said there would be no more cryptic posts? I lied. But cryptic is better than nothing; that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I'll return on Monday with something nice to say or I won't say anything at all.
I've got a glass of wine with your name on it!
and no, I didn't mean "whine". not at all. that was the most eloquent state of funk I've ever read!
That was a very nice cryptic post at least - mine are angsty and wince-worthy upon re-reading later.
Wow, that was a lot of dashes.
that was wonderful! i have NO idea what it meant, but it was still wonderful. quite a feat!
at least you have the knowledge that your craptastic days/weeks/months/years lead to fantastic writing. my craptastic life has just led to whining and over-eating. which is just...ew.
wow, that was stunning. even though my thoughts aren't the same, i know how you feel. i wish i could have gone to saj's party last night, then i could have met you! damn these cursed academic events i've had to deal with. i'm looking forward to your trip report!
I can't wait for Monday to find out what all THAT was about! Hope your weekend is great!