Mania Receding. Anyone who actually read the longest-fucking-blog-I-evvuh-wrote (that's you, Suzanne ): hey that's not a weird blog frown, it's a colon after end parens Thank You for tolerating the unbottling of feelings and thoughts that probably should have remained in an unwatered seed form, left to dry up and blow away. ("Oh, dry up," my former friend Shithead's mother useta say.) Shithead dropped me after twenty years of friendship because she said, basically, that I was too fucked up. That was very sweet, especially since we'd already drifted apart and I assumed we weren't hanging out anymore. But as a "good Christian" she said she had to be honest with me - in writing. What a Shithead. I had the nervous breakdown, got over it, and she lost what would have been the most entertaining moments of her life. Dumped by a friend, though - that's harsh.
I have about 577 unfair and biased litmus-tests for people who apply to be a good friend. Friend, fine. Good friend: fuck off. That's test number one. Can you take a joke? Have I known you for awhile? (Otherwise you may be a former beauty queen, or who knows what?) Have you been a beauty queen and now you realize it was ridiculous? Are you super-polite (deal-breaker - too much etiquette freaks me out, unless you're my mother). And on and on, of course. Do you believe everything happens for a reason? If yes, fuck off, unless you passed 576 other tests, and then I'll take it into consideration if you compliment me a lot. Okay, considering my state of reality, I cannot list the other 567ish other tests. A few days ago, the number would have been bigger, and I could have enumerated each requirement. Like I said, mania receding.
So I stopped taking Welbutrin and ta-da, I'm kinda sad and sleepy and the way any normal gal would be during the month in which her late Baby Brudda was born. Funny thing is, Baby Brudda was always late. I couldn't stay mad at him, though. He was the one person in the world I could not remain irate at, or with, or whaddevvah. Regarding the description of dead people as "late," it is absurd. Late for what? Late for lunch? They can go wherever the hell - or heaven they want. It's been proven, time and time again. Think of all of those walk-through-walls ghosts. Or maybe it means late like 'seeya later, in the after-life?' BB was early, folks. Early. By about sixty years. His bald spot had just started and he pouted when I inspected it. His band was mid-recording for their newest CD. He and Sweetheart were planning to start the fuck-for-a-baby program.
Well that's why I'm sad, that's why I am anxious, that is why, if you are able, you should listen to music you love and hang out in your pajamas and watch movies and eat a lot. Because that's what BB did, and he passed virtually all of the 577 tests. No one can pass all of them, because I cannot remember them all. I just know they're there.
I have about 577 unfair and biased litmus-tests for people who apply to be a good friend. Friend, fine. Good friend: fuck off. That's test number one. Can you take a joke? Have I known you for awhile? (Otherwise you may be a former beauty queen, or who knows what?) Have you been a beauty queen and now you realize it was ridiculous? Are you super-polite (deal-breaker - too much etiquette freaks me out, unless you're my mother). And on and on, of course. Do you believe everything happens for a reason? If yes, fuck off, unless you passed 576 other tests, and then I'll take it into consideration if you compliment me a lot. Okay, considering my state of reality, I cannot list the other 567ish other tests. A few days ago, the number would have been bigger, and I could have enumerated each requirement. Like I said, mania receding.
So I stopped taking Welbutrin and ta-da, I'm kinda sad and sleepy and the way any normal gal would be during the month in which her late Baby Brudda was born. Funny thing is, Baby Brudda was always late. I couldn't stay mad at him, though. He was the one person in the world I could not remain irate at, or with, or whaddevvah. Regarding the description of dead people as "late," it is absurd. Late for what? Late for lunch? They can go wherever the hell - or heaven they want. It's been proven, time and time again. Think of all of those walk-through-walls ghosts. Or maybe it means late like 'seeya later, in the after-life?' BB was early, folks. Early. By about sixty years. His bald spot had just started and he pouted when I inspected it. His band was mid-recording for their newest CD. He and Sweetheart were planning to start the fuck-for-a-baby program.
Well that's why I'm sad, that's why I am anxious, that is why, if you are able, you should listen to music you love and hang out in your pajamas and watch movies and eat a lot. Because that's what BB did, and he passed virtually all of the 577 tests. No one can pass all of them, because I cannot remember them all. I just know they're there.
I love that you are all messed up and honest and blogging this sadness and frank about it. I almost cried reading this---which I am sure probably is like 388 in the test "Do you cry at sad Blogs? Really? That's just annoying" but I nearly did, and, my heart goes out to you. I never had anyone close die, and since I only have two people close to me, I think I would just curl up and recede from life. Do all those fun things you listed, and do them again. And go somewhere completely different, even if it's only an hour away, and buy striped tights, and open the windows in the winter, and get bubbles to blow and pretty flowers for the table even though they are vastly over priced,and like you said---just Live. I send you good thoughts.
ReplyDeletePlum you are a doll. I love striped tights!
ReplyDeleteHey dear! Life's all about moving on..i almost burst into tears while reading ur blog..dont know really why we get hurt so much in life at times which is impossible to take...but its life sweetie and u have to accept it along with all its traits..cheer up! have faith and look forward...a silver lining awaits u :)
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