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© 2004-2008 Linda Escaip
"I may be grumpy but I like you."
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The Suns and Moons of the Grumpiest Girl in the Room.
I like the smell of erasers.
Inside Out 24-March-2007
You can write a handful of good songs for someone and they will break up with you anyway. Did you know that? In love, what can be used to insure against this kind of thing? Nothing, that's what. Thank one god or another for the gloriousness of old bitterness and all those other 'nesses. Incidentally, you can add ness to just about every adjective under the moon and stars and end up with a noun. It's super exciting. I hate love.
I'm somewhat drunk at the moment. From six ounces of beer, I'll have you know. Yes, I get out a lot. On the topic of getting out, I decided yesterday that I somewhat prefer a reclusive life to the opposite, as it seems that three out of four outings leave me with one thought: I'm really not missing all that much. Everyone is just really busy and in a hurry, and you're either in their way or in their way.
Is that terribly negative? Awesome.
In addition to love, I also hate sex. Tenderness too, and all that comes with it. I hate life's "no guarantees" bullshit. Life and love: take it or leave it—as is. I'd like to tell all of it to suck my something or other, and I'll grow one if necessary just to make that workable. I wonder what I'd give for a cigarette right now? That would be kind of interesting to find out.
I have terrible thoughts sometimes. Probably three or so nights a year, I think about the razor blade I never bring with me into the bath. I think about it in spite of the never in that sentence, when I'm blue beyond the call of duty. But thinking about someone I love finding me, picturing their reaction and subsequent heartache, pulls me out of it, along with thinking about the rest of the hearts I would demolish. You know what else changes that tune in my head? Vanity: My hair isn't clean! I am not kidding, vanity can be a lifesaver. Or maybe it's just pride in one's appearance? I picture two people at the morgue talking about me... "What a shame, offing herself. Looks like she was a nice lady. A looker too. But hadn't shaved in ages, had she?" And then I imagine someone at the crematorium having sex with my corpse before tossing it into the pit, which also plays a part in changing that morbid channel. Please don't have sex with my dead body, no matter how long you've been without good lovin'. Why not try line dancing?
Things always end up being OK. Have you ever noticed how people will often softly and patiently repeat "It's OK" or "It's going to be alright" to someone who is in distress? Whether things work out to your advantage or not, they end up being OK. They always do. I learned that some years back and feel grateful to carry it with me in my bag of tricks.
Is it still trendy to be unscathed by everything? I've never been fashionable.
I have held on to some things too long. I ended an abusive relationship many years ago, but brought it with me everywhere I've been since then. The statute of limitations long ago ran out, but there I've stood on the court steps, screaming out past iniquities well beyond their expiration date. I feel foolish. You went on living and I stood still, watching the world go by. I know you never set out to hurt me. I know that. Thank you for being kind when you were.
So many choices in this life. It's a shame to keep making the same ones that make you feel like hell. I think we forget we have choices. I have habitually looked at certain people from my past in unfavourable light, relinquishing memories of whatever I found endearing about them. This doesn't paint a fair picture. It leaves them as ill-defined, one-dimensional characters. We each have the capacity to hurt one other. We have the ability to heal one another as well. It's about choice and responsibility. Remembering we have choices and choosing to take responsibility for them, even the crappy ones. I wish to be surrounded by people who own their every word and deed.
I wish to have the compassion and grace to forgive anyone who hurts me. My problem with forgiving you is that I bypassed forgiving myself. That's why you're still following me from room to room, showing up in the mirror in place of my own reflection. I used to be beautiful. I used to be so many things. I loved you. You didn't love me back. It's OK. You can say it a thousand times but it won't make it real if it doesn't exist. You loved what wasn't me.
And all the things I used to be and all the beauty that once was mine follow me from room to room right along with you. You are louder and clearer because I believe more in you than I do in myself. For now. But I'm working on it.
I wish you could see me When I'm flying in my dreams The way I laugh there way up high The way I look when I fly The way I laugh The way I fly.*
Quote From My World
"I cringe when I look at your marshmallow."
Weirdest email subject I've ever seen: "CHEEAP WAY TO BIGGER UR SHORT & THIN D11CK pretty." I don't get the "pretty" part. And I'm almost sure I don't want anyone to explain it to me. Dick Pretty would be a good character name, though.
Thanks for reading.
Linda (a.k.a. Dick Pretty)
*from the Patty Griffin song "Chief" off her album 1000 Kisses, which is worth countless listens.
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