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Posts Tagged ‘some things just tear my crack out’

 
|| September 2, 2000 || 2:13 pm || Comments (0) ||

his eyes are red / his teeth are black / when he steps forward / people go back / is that a halo / above his head / oh they say the meek / they walk with angels / they’re a blessed mess / he says why why is it me / i think that’s a poor sentiment / your own damn misery / is it so peculiar to loathe yourself / well we all step over / the line they call dignity / he blinks at my surprise / his head is bent / into this doorstep i / walk over him to get inside / that kid is not alright / and everything about him / smells like pain / his eyes are bruised from looking in / he looks into other people’s lives / they exclude him / he thinks that god is calling him up / up on the phone / but when he picks up / the receiver there is no one home / there is no one home / there is no no one home / he blinks at my surprise / his head is bent / into this doorstep i / walk over him to get inside / the kid is not alright / he’s a waste of my time / he’s a waste of my time / he’s a waste of my time / he’s a waste of my time / he blinks at my surprise / his head is bent / into this doorstep i / i i i walked over him / i just went inside / that kid is not alright / he’s not alright / he’s not alright / he’s not alright / and everything about him smelled like pain…..

//Talking To Animals, “kid is not alright

 
|| September 1, 2000 || 12:14 pm || Comments (0) ||

All week I have had some great ponderings to post on this here blog. I have.

All week I have been insanely busy and preoccupied with life in realtime and have not had the energy or spare moments to boot up and scribble on the webwall. Or maybe I have been avoiding it; out of nowhere I am experiencing a sort of spiritual exhaustion and all of my energies and time the past few days have been channelled (sp? fuck) toward getting as much done as possible in the 24 hours that I have been allotted per day. ~I am gassed up on only about 3.5 hours’ worth of snooze each night as of late.~

In the past few weeks I have watched and listened impotently as the following people weathered losses:

+Christie (mentioned in past post) buried her father after a recent sudden job loss and bore all the emotional and financial weight accompanying it
+Louise (nice, boisterous older lady from next door…pseudo gramma to our family) had a handsome late-40’s son who died a mere 2 weeks before his only grandchild was born
+My mom-in-law (ROCK ON, beautiful free spirit) saw two very good friends die in a car accident
+Donald and Vicki (two nicer, more genuine people could not be hand-picked from gazillions) buried their dad and may have to do the same with their brother.

*sigh* *SIGH* Perhaps this was a preparation for me; a ripening of my emotions so that they were ready to ooze thickly, cloying and sweet.So anyway, my mom calls me 2 days ago and tells me that one of my favorite aunts has cancer and her doctor in his infinite wisdom and sophisticated medicalese told her, “It looks really, really bad.” There you have it. Right there.

Now, I know (and I am hoping that you do as well) that docs normally do not leave room in the equation for the human spirit and its’ boundless power, so I usually say “BAH” and eschew the doomsday/naysayer’s point of view in cases like this. This is different. My aunt has had a series of things happen in the past 2 years that have seriously compromised her immunity and she may well die. ‘Die’ is such a succinct word, huh?

When mom told me, I was fairly non-reactive but now it has started to settle. I slipped today into reclusive cyberescape mode and was twiddling around when I clicked through to a site that I normally enjoy immensely. The author apparently has a friend afflicted with the dreaded BIG C and is doing her part to help. As I read along, outta nowhere the tears started to roll and here I am, typing and bawling and backspacing and fixing typos that my tear-induced blurry vision has prompted. Fuck.

All of this putrid softy behaviour is only culminating now; it started last night about 9 p.m. and I felt a need to phone my mom to talk. What’d we converse about?? You see, it boils down to this: I feel that this is a beginning. My parents each have several siblings (mom has 7 and dad has 6). While I feel that I am still way too young to be losing any of them, odds are that it will undoubtedly start happening soon. I, in my profound wisdom, deem this as ‘fucked up’.

As I explained it to my mother, without caring one iota how fucking selfish that it may have sounded, when my family starts dying off, I fear that I will start dying off as well. I was raised in a close-knit familial environment and I am grounded in that, no matter how the miles may separate me from them. A big part of me is defined within and by my family and when they start pushing daisies an important part of me will be gone. I expressed this huge, HUGE thing to my mother and she said, “Oh, my beautiful baby, you don’t have to worry…something else always moves in and takes that place.”

I don’t fucking want it to. I don’t. And don’t tell me I am being unreasonable, damn you. I have never feared death, ever, but now I am coming to the rather fierce revelation that I DO fear its’ aftermath. I have questions that only certain people can answer. Who do I turn to for wisdom and knowledge when they are gone? Not even 2 months ago I made the six-hour drive to visit my aunt and spend a few days with her. She has always been a creative person and we sat on the back patio for hours during that trip, sparking ideas off of each other and firing new ones based on the last one. She spoiled my children and we laughed together at their antics and she marveled at how much like my mother that I had become. We had grown-up conversation; something that I never would have imagined when I was 9 and running through her sprinklers in the yard or pleading for her to buy my favorite popsicles at the grocery. It’s now something that I look forward to with my own nieces and nephews…..

So I get off the phone and call my father. In preparation for that call, I tuck my sorrow and shakiness away neatly, so that he doesn’t think that my calling him is to pirate him emotionally. We just haven’t talked in so long and I want nothing to sully it. Something does anyway. He is himself.

As well-off as I would like to be (hell, merely financially stable would be GREAT), I realize that money doesn’t buy everything. Here is an open question to him that he will never see: When are you gonna wise up, old man? Is it gonna be before or after I am as unavailable to you??? You see, I have wants, but I truly want for nothing. I wish you understood just what you were/are passing up.

And by the way, I have standards of my OWN and in a pure sense they are FAR SUPERIOR to YOURS.

 

If I was Katie, I’d be pissed off too. I’d be extra-special pissed with a cherry on top. I would not be as (ahem) graceful and patient as she seemingly is.

I would be way, WAYugly and extremely verbally abusive to Katie Tarbox and her evil, pus-oozing corporate minions. I would send my attorney, Will, after Katie Tarbox and Company with a heated fury that rivaled the depths of Hades itself. He would cripple them with his extremely well-worded nastygrams and they would be forced to buckle under the weight of his monstrous legal skill and his intoxicating Southern-barrister laconicism. Will has a cheerful record of success that is brutally high when viewed from any given angle.

Katie Tarbox and her Merry Band of Big-Business Cheesedicks would be left crying, offering up all the toys in their toyboxes and signing over their firstborns for servitude to my own children.

But hey, that’s just ME.

Let the original Katie know you’re rootin’ for her.

 
|| August 16, 2000 || 5:48 pm || Comments (0) ||

I already had a loathing/distaste for The Gap. With the advent of their newest ad campaign, it is now nothing short of MASSIVE.

Surely to God if you have a television, watch it a little and are not comatose, you have seen these really annoying snippets of retail pimping courtesy of the great conglomerate of textile that is The Gap. They feature kids doing a mock-up performance of “You Really Got Me” (Oh, thou stinky defilers of this monstrous rock classic!!). One is a prepubescent grrl band and the other is a poorly choreographed (as well as executed) boy band (prepubescent as well).

Not only do these commercials SUCK, they are in heavy rotation and seem to be on my television every 30 minutes when it is up and running (I am one of those retards that leave it on for the background noise).

Of course, I object on the whole “HEY PEDOPHILES, looky here!!!” level. Mostly I just object because they are crappily done on the audiovisual level and they are dull, dull, DULL.

Hey Gap, you suck. Fire your kitschy ad jerkoffs. They are raping your checkbook. They have effectively killed any chance that I might peel off some greenbacks if I were ever to accidentally stumble into your retail space after having been clubbed on the head or drugged at a fratboy watering hole.

I hate you, Gap. I really, really do. Child labor wasn’t enough for ya? You just HAD to find another venue to exploit ‘em in?? JEEZUS.

“How would you like it if the tables turned/And we put your kind to death?”
// Red September, “Welcome to the Other Side”