I’ve been floundering. It seems flinging all your hats back in peoples faces leaves a person rather without aim. I’m calling it a funk. Saying it might be a bit of depression sounds depressing. Having a funk sounds like maybe I can wear platform shoes and tight plaid bell bottoms.
Last night I ate half a blueberry muffin before I realized it was blueberry. I thought it was just a chocolate chip muffin gone bad. The thing is… the fact that it sucked ass didn’t stop me from eating it. I only stopped eating it when I finally figured out it was blueberry. Because I don’t like blueberries. I mean I’ve sort of made that a rule. I’ll eat them if I’m picking them directly off the bush but otherwise I avoid berries of the blue variety. Apparently I’ll tolerate chocolate in any condition, even if it’s blue.
I always end up in this place where I have to decide to either get the fuck over something and do something for myself OR spiral into self destructive tendencies for a couple few more years and get to the work later. Or never. You know - whatever comes first. And now on top of it there’s this whole death clock ticking everywhere I go. I’m all Hook and no Pan.
Meanwhile I have everything. I know I joke about the poverty but honestly it’s only because I’ve been spoiled so long that I feel any pinch now. Mostly I’m annoyed that I have to think about money. So here I am in the big old awesome house in the town I picked for the fabulous school where my daughters teacher actually calls me at home from the classroom. I have a beautiful, healthy, intelligent children and
And…..
That’s just it…. I’m still trying to figure out what the point of it all is. I’m still pissed off that there’s no point. That it just is and that I’m supposed to be satisfied with it. That no one else seems to be mad about anything important. That it’s so clear to me that everyone is isolated and lonely and without touch and it stuns me that we can all be that way and so rarely find anything resembling a match. That there’s no solution … that the doing over and over might BE the solution.
Wax on wax off.
Fucking zen.
SO I try and shake it all off. I go out in the world and it seems to me that all of us should be ripping our skin off for the chance to brush against anything that might share in this tremble, in this terror and anger and day in day out work of it all….. Against any heat or shiver or spark that says we’re alive to experience and I don’t find any of that. I find drunks and assholes too fucking stupid to know what to do with their dicks and only interested in pretending long enough to get the bare minimum of contact needed to get their rocks off and that’s enough for them. People doing everything they can to avoid exactly what I'm looking for.
I don’t understand why any of this is enough for anyone. I don’t understand why we’re all eager to give up and give in and settle down and wait for death. I don’t see how the fear of that is more than the unavoidable cul-de-sac up ahead of all of us.
And more and more I have less tolerance for anyone. More and more I have less belief in humanity. Just this all consuming, paralyzing internal scream winding it’s way through my insides until the hole is so large only something incredible and probably nonexistent could fill it.
No big deal. Just life. Just another whiny blog. Just my chocolate is blue and it’s making me funky.
October 27, 2009
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