ambiguity

tonight i smoked alone and then proceeded to try to paint my soon-to-be romper/tv room, clean up my office (very very very very very difficult at best), pull the hunks of lentil soup out of the pot i forgat to take off the stove before i started to paint, wash the dishes, begin and ...(i need a word here/can't remember...sounds and acts like "repudiate" i think. you know, it means drop because your attention drifted elsewhere...)...anyway, i started and eventually stopped organizing the mail, ... you still with me? ... it goes on, and it includes walking into a wall of destressing gospel music. bammmmmmm whooooooaaaa. ollabelle. you gotta check 'em out. self-titled album, track number 4 is what did it. "Jesus On The Mainline."


jesus on the mainline



l him what you want . . .
e l
t


anyway, becaue i was realizing at that very moment how like david sedaris i really am (my man vince corroborated this fact ........... ;C .......... with me mometarily ago. so i walk right almost-blammo into this room of sound. and i felt it hit me, then weirdly, it settled over me, settled kind of inside me -- and surrounded me at the sametime.


and i just let it all go.





i flopped on the couch like a fish with tuby-tunnel hollowy arms. i felt and yet did not feel my hands. i had an idea what they must look like if i were looking from the outside of me, looking from say the upper corner across the room. it's a good 15 feet, i guess. and there's i be hovering over there just observing me. and there i was on the couch starting to feel silly for exploding with weepingness, yet still weeping and telepathing, i guess, to my othersame self across the room.

but wait, i think from the couch -- and from across the room -- how and more importanty why should i be watching myself. why should anybody be watching, or investigating rather, this... me.

and so, i reintegrated and felt just awfully wonderful crying out loud on the couch listening now to track 5 (b/c some time has past and track 4, though an instigator, has left the scene). i welcomed myself back to myself, gave up and got god. and my tears stoppedish and i laughed from my guts as 3 or 4 seconds before i gave it everything i got to ... love myself? peace myself? give myself permission open the cage door of my frustration.

and now, even though i'm sitting at my desk, and i continue to see one more thing -- the plastic-parisiany coasters at the upper corner of my desktop (given to me by my own philosopher waitress jenny. i would like to see her again, it's been 17 years.


holy shit.


17.



years.




i was 15 and she was 2 husbands down and a new nose later b/c one of them had busted it for her. she put down alcoholism and loved lipgloss (she looked very cute in it). we (in jest but as a testament to her seriousnous) drew up a contract so she would quit smoking--i later tried that trick on my then-boyfriend. it was a noble effort but eventually he caved and i found out from one of the young smart-ass boys he worked with. at the christmas dinner table with all his work buddies i had never met. i guess he'd been smoking for a few months, maybe less, at that point. i felt rather bad about the whole thing. i mean, he felt pressured into lying. probably because he figured he wasn't measuring up (to some ~divine "potential" in my eyes. somehow, however, we tend to ignore the implications for ourselves, which is probably why i'm having a bit of a hard time articulating exactly what...exactly...i felt.

i felt like there was a breach. and because, well, everything runs toward entropy and the course is set until something , or someONE, changes it. and so, it happened for a reason, but what fvcking reason. ? .

and so it continued... for some time... and i still love him. but the two of us, we stopped.

necessarily, we stopped.

but that's that. where WAS i before i started this tangent.

vince, you might be right. maybe i DO need drugs. but,really, do yu really think so... A-D-D. ? . really?

> s i g h <