flickerfade.org

down in the country kitchen tonight baking banana bread (what wonderfully poor alliteration). the night watch came by on her standard rounds. what a nice lady (she lives in saugus). last time, if you remember, she gave us gardening tips.

this time, she remarked how nice it is to cook for others. very true. she talked about how her neighbor had a daughter pass away from cancer. and then, how one of her friends brought them muffins. (he owned two bakeries–it was a truckload of muffins.) we are lucky to have a happier occasion on our hands.

and then we talked about family–i forget how that came up. five daughters and one son she had. the son was second. one of her daughters doesn’t want to have kids. another one is about to have her seventh grandchild in about three weeks. how nice.

she told me about the birth of her last daughter–maybe not the last daughter but certainly one of them. it was because she was telling me how she warned her daughter to actually go to the hospital. that warning was because she gave birth to her last daughter in her car. her husband called for an ambulance or fire truck or police, but nobody would come. by the time the authorities decided to come, she had already given birth in the car. whoops. what a great story.

sadly, i guess you had to be there. like when she was describing her 16 month old grandson. she made one of those “da bears” poses and in a deep voice, said “look at me, i am big baby.” the kid ate everything, she said. he’s over two and a half feet tall already, he was ten pounds and three ounces at birth. i said he was going to be a basketball player. he’ll eat three pork chops a day.

yeah, that all seems pointless. until you realise we all have those types of stories, or that at least all of us eventually will. i get overwhelmed because i think about the fact that every single person on this earth has a different life experience.

i am just so full of resentment, that i resent myself as well for it. if you knew everything i felt, if you could read my mind, if you could dream my dreams, you’d hate me too.

sometimes in my mind i play out all these very detailed, vengeful scenarios. sometimes i describe them to people. here’s one. i used to want bad drivers to have their brakes fail, causing them to crash into a tree. after that, their cars would burst into flames. no injuries would occur, of course. (right) before that, i started with simpler scenarios like literally suing the pants off people, as well as for millions of dollars, sending them into debtor’s prison with no pants. i didn’t know that debtor’s prisons were largely defunct in this day and age. i’ve done this kind of fantasising ever since i can remember.

my mother would always chide me for it. the whole pants thing was cute at first. (it would be funny if instead of paying the money you’d have to walk around with no pants for one day per ten dollars or something. in our litigous society i’m sure half of the people i knew would be pantless.) but there really is no reason for all this hate, she’d say. she is right. still, i broke tonight. actually, i’ve been broken for awhile now. this is one of those moments where i turn to travis and get depressed listening to their music. (side is the name of the song i think of.) i get the feeling that if i keep sliding i will see that bright, dark day i talked about earlier. so i will get up.

a long time ago i used to be all about posting the truth when i blogged. i still am. but now, it’s not the whole truth. a lot of people don’t post what they really feel. either that, or everybody feels the same thing. i can’t tell. it all seems so generic when you read a big jumble of other people’s stuff. it’s all the same thing. but each pointless missive is still a glimpse into a life, albeit tiny and almost non-informational. i think it shows us how we have certain hopes and dreams in common.

it’s scary to post (not to mention do, in general) what you really feel. sometimes it has unforeseen consequences–unfortunately, they are usually unforeseen because you didn’t think about them before you posted them. (sorry, david.) that might be why everything seems so staged. maybe everyone thinks more than me. after my sad mistake i think just a touch more.

i can’t take it anymore. (listening to a lot of phantom planet. it’s amazing how they make sadness so happy, for me anyway.) that might explain all this pissiness. certainly one shot of vodka is no excuse. that barely fazes me, especially when about a fourth of it is spilled on to the ground before i even have a chance to drink it.

at least i am feeling something, emotion’s not bouncing off anymore.

must resensitise. the end. everything touches your life. cannot forget. cannot let things roll and slide off skin. i remember posting about a day when that happened. now that seems to happen every day.

must sleep. no crankiness