Rocky Day
Having a bad, rocky day. Sort of like an anxiety attack in slo-mo that makes me hate everyone I encounter, but most especially myself. I got rest last night, no nightmares, even did dishes and put away laundry before bed so the apt would be less oppressive this morning, but today still sux balls. I’m supposed to see a play with Ian tonight after work, so maybe it will get better. Sometimes there doesn’t need to be a reason, I guess. But the burning inside that starts at the base of my throat and has been trickling down into a molten pool of acid in my gut all day seems to be responding to something specific and painful just out of my view. And now, a revised version of a poem first penned by my high school chum Mark Shapiro a short while before he left lamb’s tongues on every water fountain in the school and then left our town forever:
Sick of editing
Sick of life
Gonna end it
With a knife
July 19th, 2006 at 4:48 pm
*hugs*
July 19th, 2006 at 5:35 pm
Awww sweetie maybe we have sympathy crappiness! I feel crappy too, dunno why. I also have heartburn! Blah. I hope your evening is going better, love, b/c I love you.
July 19th, 2006 at 5:55 pm
Anxiety Atack City (tm of LCF) is a terrible place to visit, the train schedules leaving town are unreliable to the point of seeming a cruel fiction, and something about the repulsive malaise of the place is almost comfoting. Oddly much like Intrzone, or being beat, or fallen, or being a punk, it is the place where much and even most great art comes has been created. To wit: Poe, Baudelaire, “Walden�, Van Goh, Pollack, Blues, Jazz, Hip Hop, etc.
The terrible place that is AAC is the brier pear womb of progress at it will always hurt to bear the Jim Morrison, and Patti Smith children that Live with in ourselves but THERE IS NO OTHER WAY.
…But all these things are easier said than done.