main hu saanpon ki rani
on the road slouching towards anything at this point
I, too, bet on losing dogs. One dog. Me.
Learned a new word today. Obsequious. Obedient or attentive to an excessive or servile degree. It is apparently an insult. I think of all the time I have put myself away for a bigger matter at hand. The attention to detail leads to obedience to Manner of Life, and I paw my nose and wait until the doors open again for me. Like always, I am hopeful when I enter, but the party is over, the streamers are trampled, and there is a half empty plastic glass. Anyways, dogs can’t drink soda.
Wires Crossed in Head
The neutral wire of existence, also known as the ground wire of life, runs seamlessly through my body when I am alone. It grounds me, it neutralises the bad good thoughts into a mush in my head. I picture severing my head and eating the skull contents like soup, sitting against a wall.
Sometimes the neutral wire gets crossed with the live wire of living. Not a lot happens, not at once, but I start faltering. There’s static and buzzing in my body that only I can feel (...).
It is not always life threatening. My life is never threatened. On some occasions the damage is just a dumb moment – oh yeah, I love Moneyball, the movie about golf. It is about baseball!!!!! How can you forget and fumble and mumble and appear like a dumb woman, don’t you know the state of women in the Field of Enjoying Things? We are anyways losing all the time! How could you combine two of the deadliest things – films and sports – and just ruin it? Not to mention the wildcard in this specific instance – Brad Pitt.
Now you will be considered a dumb bitch, a liar probably, because your wires were crossed. Try explaining that.
We got life every day. Every Fucking Day.
I love the concept of love and friendship and whimsy. However, I am not standing on the business à la Justin Beaver when I say this. I have turned hard, like a rock and not in the gender-envy fantasy manner that I picture sometimes when I put my hand on my crotch and do not feel an appendage sticking out, Excaliburesque. Burlesque. Grotesque. Kafkaesque (happy birthday, fuck Woody Allen. Wood. Rock hard. Circle of life. Circlejerk).
The facts. Yes. Circling back to that… I have hardened on the inside. Everybody has problems, and right now I have a lot. And I feel ashamed about having so many problems. So I am a bad friend. I do not care about anybody’s crisis right now. Nor do I want to hang out. I do not want to open my mouth for anything. It gets complicated when it comes to love.
For the past two weeks or so, I have been trying to rest. Monk level, meditative state, a bug in soil level of rest. I am unable to. There are people/a person/moments/love to show up for. A job to do to feed yourself. What if I don’t want to feed myself? Or live in any place? Where does that leave me, uncharted terrain?
The hatred I feel for myself overpowers whatever love I have managed to keep going in the broth of life simmering over the dying light against which I rage, mostly inwards, burning myself over and over (Mitski, I am sorry I did not learn from your mistakes). But I go on. There is no advice, no way to crack the code.
Showing up matters. Wake up, call in sick, do whatever you can to express that you are a Normal Person with Feelings and The Ability to Do Things. Yes! I! Have! The! Lust! For! Life!
Showing up matters. But, there is always an excuse to not show up. However, it is not an excuse for me.
I did not want to show up.
Anger Isn’t Hot.
I think at any given moment, I am the angriest in the room. I have gotten so good at keeping it inside the more I near my father’s age when he entered Fatherhood (29). I will be sitting and stewing and spewing hatred – all inside of me. I appear lost or daydreaming or – as it has been lovingly put on multiple occasions – far away. But I am merely climbing the spiral staircase in my head with a spear in my hand and it is on fire and I am trying to hunt somebodything down for somebodything that happened to me eons ago (memory years work differently).
I wish I could be angry in peace. I wish I could be left alone to sit in the middle of a room and just be angry.
If you are not leaving the snake alone, don’t complain when it churns your body and drinks the four humors right out of your laugh hole.
Great, now nobody is happy. And I am still angry.
hawa hawai best song ever. here is a playlist which does not have hawa hawai. might get back to translating songs again because yeah. the title “main hu saanpon ki raani” means “i am the queen of snakes.” the next line is “kaata maange na paani” which means the queen of snakes bites in such a manner that the dying cannot even ask for water in their final moments.
BEAUTIFUL
I like how all your narratives skip across random tidbits from your life and how they all fall into place so well and leave us readers wanting more in the end. write a book please.