The monsters make me hide.
Perhaps Ill eat myself alive.
-Chiasm, Isolated
This weekI wanted to eat my brain, and a little girl saved me...
Over the weekend I went to Richs grad party and had boku fun. We sang. Some of us passed out. Some of us played cards. Some got sick. I fell off a table (still have the bruises to show for it). I got to stay up past the sunrise and talk mythology, religion, and more mundane things besides
Sunday I went to the Renaissance fair. It was fun. I got a book on sword fighting, so now I can relearn the names of some of the stances and defenses from stage combat class. Though I was not dressed as a Medieval guy, I did get lots of comments on my Jimmy Buffette, pirate T-shirt.
Wednesday morning I woke up in a tremendous FUNK. It was hard to breath. Angry, depressed, irritable, I couldnt will myself out of it. Maybe it was a combination of things a deadline for my thesis closing in on me (various other projects having kept me from it for most of the summerand now mounting computer problems) the struggle not to become a total sloth, at home, over the summer (when things like awards, ambitions, and accomplishments seem so far away) an all but dead love life (these days I have lots of friendly tears on my shoulders, but my collar is bereft of lipstick) and a spiraling sensation of loss of control over things (this is weird for me as I usually beat that feeling by NOT trying to control thingsselecting currents to ride is my normal M.O.). And lately (maybe because of some of those things) I just havent felt myself. Ive felt trapped in my head, unresponsive socially, just not myselflike I got kryptonite in my socks. And Wednesday all those hydra heads came out at once, gnawing my insides, making me feel hollow and angry.
I yelled at a lot of inanimate objects.
Then I had to drive in traffic. I was just trying to turn my teeth around and eat my own brain, when I pulled behind a van with a little girl in the rear window. She looked at me and waved and smiled a gap-toothed smile. I waved back.
She made a face.
I made a face.
Between lights, we exchanged various, goofy faces. I cant say whether I won this contest or not, but I represented! I felt better. At the risk of sounding cutesie and clich (not to mention strange for a guy who normally takes comfort in voodoo dolls, all things painted black, and bone skull dcor) I felt better after playing goofy faces with a five year old.
Sitting in my yard, letting Lenore slither laps helped me feel better to. I find focus and comfort in the tactile experience of snake. But thenIve always held the belief that, like wizards, writers (or any creative craftsmen) need a familiar.
Tonight I found out that the website that published a few vampire stories of mine (BLOODLUST UK) is putting out a physical anthology of their published pieces. So I guess Ill have my name in a British book and a couple of stories.
Also, I discovered that French Vanilla coffee, mixed with vanilla rum, is great.
Not 100% - but better than I was on Wednesday.
PAX
I am, I am, I said Im not myself,
But Im not dead and Im not for sale.
-Stone Temple Pilots, Trippin on a Hole In a Paper Heart
Perhaps Ill eat myself alive.
-Chiasm, Isolated
This weekI wanted to eat my brain, and a little girl saved me...
Over the weekend I went to Richs grad party and had boku fun. We sang. Some of us passed out. Some of us played cards. Some got sick. I fell off a table (still have the bruises to show for it). I got to stay up past the sunrise and talk mythology, religion, and more mundane things besides
Sunday I went to the Renaissance fair. It was fun. I got a book on sword fighting, so now I can relearn the names of some of the stances and defenses from stage combat class. Though I was not dressed as a Medieval guy, I did get lots of comments on my Jimmy Buffette, pirate T-shirt.
Wednesday morning I woke up in a tremendous FUNK. It was hard to breath. Angry, depressed, irritable, I couldnt will myself out of it. Maybe it was a combination of things a deadline for my thesis closing in on me (various other projects having kept me from it for most of the summerand now mounting computer problems) the struggle not to become a total sloth, at home, over the summer (when things like awards, ambitions, and accomplishments seem so far away) an all but dead love life (these days I have lots of friendly tears on my shoulders, but my collar is bereft of lipstick) and a spiraling sensation of loss of control over things (this is weird for me as I usually beat that feeling by NOT trying to control thingsselecting currents to ride is my normal M.O.). And lately (maybe because of some of those things) I just havent felt myself. Ive felt trapped in my head, unresponsive socially, just not myselflike I got kryptonite in my socks. And Wednesday all those hydra heads came out at once, gnawing my insides, making me feel hollow and angry.
I yelled at a lot of inanimate objects.
Then I had to drive in traffic. I was just trying to turn my teeth around and eat my own brain, when I pulled behind a van with a little girl in the rear window. She looked at me and waved and smiled a gap-toothed smile. I waved back.
She made a face.
I made a face.
Between lights, we exchanged various, goofy faces. I cant say whether I won this contest or not, but I represented! I felt better. At the risk of sounding cutesie and clich (not to mention strange for a guy who normally takes comfort in voodoo dolls, all things painted black, and bone skull dcor) I felt better after playing goofy faces with a five year old.
Sitting in my yard, letting Lenore slither laps helped me feel better to. I find focus and comfort in the tactile experience of snake. But thenIve always held the belief that, like wizards, writers (or any creative craftsmen) need a familiar.
Tonight I found out that the website that published a few vampire stories of mine (BLOODLUST UK) is putting out a physical anthology of their published pieces. So I guess Ill have my name in a British book and a couple of stories.
Also, I discovered that French Vanilla coffee, mixed with vanilla rum, is great.
Not 100% - but better than I was on Wednesday.
PAX
I am, I am, I said Im not myself,
But Im not dead and Im not for sale.
-Stone Temple Pilots, Trippin on a Hole In a Paper Heart
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
and fucking exes...
and fucking ex-rabbits...
Would it crush your spirit if I told you that 5-year old told me that she's planning on kicking your ass later?
<<I yelled at a lot of inanimate objects.>>
Hey, as long as they aren't yelling back, you're still on this side of the hospital bracelet, love.
Thanks for the vanilla coffee/rum tip. Congratulations on the publication, and happy belated birthday to your slithering sweetie. 'Glad you're recovering from the funk... don't go Hemingway on me: besides the suicide, he was a real bastard to the ladies