Bent Words

Bent Words

July 29, 2020

Like a GIANT surprise, you have to go somewhere today!

Don’t worry that it’s not unlike every other day. Just be surprised today. And tomorrow. And the next day. Infinity. Never leave in time.

Always be late. Late is fucking hilarious. Especially when it becomes MY problem. “Can you [blank]” or “Help me [blank] because I’m running behind.”

No I cannot.

I’m not going out to lunch, dinner or other. I have a long list of things to accomplish which mostly includes purging with a pinch of organization. Do not call anyone to see if they want something because it will be in the garbage before they can get it. It’s disappearing. NOW.

Please do not TOUCH me. I’m touched out. Do not open the door to the room that I’m in, do not ask me for a hug (that’s to make you feel better, not me) and do not get closer when I bend over to pick up a Skittle off the floor. That’s not an invitation.

That’s another giant surprise. NO INVITATIONS.

I can’t write my annual notes for the kids’ birthday cards because all I can write at present is, STOP BEING ASSHOLES. Not very encouraging but it does make the point. I usually put a little money in them but now I’m thinking IOUs are more fitting. Or, “Here’s a $10 – don’t suck.” I know Big Kid is bigger than Middle Kid but why does she have to make that obvious every other sentence/action?

Big Kid wants to do a mother/daughter day but I don’t know how I can do that and not be around her at the same time. Because I really don’t like her right now. I think I’m going to start recording all the times she torments her little sibling just so I have proof to back up this statement.

For the rest of the year, I’ll be here, hiding/rotting/working in my basement. If you need me, don’t.

I needed to expunge all of that and I feel better.

Thank you.

It’s 4pm on a Friday in Belfast.

So where the fuck are you?

And where the fuck am I?

The lights go out and although I’m happy that it’s finally quiet enough to hear what you’re saying, I’m a little bit scared of the dark. Unless I’m sleeping. Then I like that shit cave black.

Things are never just what they seem.

Sometimes Beethoven, sometimes country, sometimes whatever my Big Kid is listening to. Sometimes beer, sometimes vodka, sometimes the tar bender doesn’t do it the way I like. So then sometimes Cappy and Coke or a Bloody Buddy or a cherry bomb.

After the 5th cherry bomb on Saturday, I wrote a message and then an email and then an entry. I cried over every word and then re-read them all and cried a bit more. Do not pass go, do not hit send, do not open the damn door.

Because if it’s the wrong choice, I don’t want to make it. Because sorry will not mean what I need it to mean and what I can do is pathetic compared to what I perhaps should do. Because the only guarantee I can make is NO GAURANTEES. So I have to exhaust the possibility, know that I gave it my all and that THIS CHOICE is the best I can do.

I still hate me a little but not as much as I did when it was really bad.

Babies have birthdays.
I have all these bills to pay.
Work is waiting for me.
Even though I just want to play

I don’t seem to cross too much off of this big old list but it’s a start. I’m more busy than I’ve ever been and…

I keep thinking the time will swallow my thoughts up whole
But there’s still a lot of highway
And a lot of down time for the wheels in my mind to roll

So that part of the movie where she’s on the back of the motorcycle and he reaches back to caress her leg is the same part in real life where I catch my breath and wonder what’s next and which highway I’ll end up on. It might be pretty lonely by the time I get there but that’s just me – or you – with timing.

When you look at me
And the whole world fades
I’ll always remember us this way

Written at 7:42 p.m.