Is what I'm drinking-I keep it on hand, for those of you unfamiliar. It's convenient, the 7-11 of liquor. $14 for a 1/5th, and while I don't generally drink (been at least 6 months since I was intoxicated enough to call myself drunk) I find it handy to keep around the house for various purposes. Shots have long been part of Casa del Impossible's traditions, and I'm three in at this point. So...drunk and blogging. Been a while.
Hard day. Strange day. Rich and terrible and bittersweet and thick, like cake or mail. I haven't cried, but I thought I would, and still may. Tiramisu.
I compose these in my head throughout, try and render down the anecdotal (and I am a man made entirely of anecdotes) moments and offer you the distilled essence(lettuce schnapps) of my day...I am trying to be apparent, and succeeding/failing all at once.
Great.
Here is my sorrow and my joy and my triumph and vindication and prescience...I am the kwisatz haderach, and one-winged, and El-ahrairah all at once. I have lycanthrophilia-I have been diagnosed by a specialist. I'd be a pro, we're all pros...at poetry. I have a knife, no stiletto. I don't make puppets-no Gepetto. I've never sung opera-I've got no libretto.
These are my stories, my touchstones and my moments. There are so many, and I wouldn't have them any other way. When I think back, when I turn to those tactics and methods that would have been what I thought I wanted...before. I would have torn into someone, sharpened my claws on someone. I would have wallowed, I would have felt like I needed to be rescued, needed an audience, needed to be saved.
But no one can save me-I can only save myself. That counts for the rest of you as well. And here I am, squalid and sad and lonely and proud. I am so many things. Here they are, for you all to peruse. Take your time-I'm not dead yet. And I am so happy.
I made a list. A list of the things that I am up for.
Everything.
Hard day. Strange day. Rich and terrible and bittersweet and thick, like cake or mail. I haven't cried, but I thought I would, and still may. Tiramisu.
I compose these in my head throughout, try and render down the anecdotal (and I am a man made entirely of anecdotes) moments and offer you the distilled essence(lettuce schnapps) of my day...I am trying to be apparent, and succeeding/failing all at once.
Great.
Here is my sorrow and my joy and my triumph and vindication and prescience...I am the kwisatz haderach, and one-winged, and El-ahrairah all at once. I have lycanthrophilia-I have been diagnosed by a specialist. I'd be a pro, we're all pros...at poetry. I have a knife, no stiletto. I don't make puppets-no Gepetto. I've never sung opera-I've got no libretto.
These are my stories, my touchstones and my moments. There are so many, and I wouldn't have them any other way. When I think back, when I turn to those tactics and methods that would have been what I thought I wanted...before. I would have torn into someone, sharpened my claws on someone. I would have wallowed, I would have felt like I needed to be rescued, needed an audience, needed to be saved.
But no one can save me-I can only save myself. That counts for the rest of you as well. And here I am, squalid and sad and lonely and proud. I am so many things. Here they are, for you all to peruse. Take your time-I'm not dead yet. And I am so happy.
I made a list. A list of the things that I am up for.
Everything.
1 comment:
Beautiful post. Made of anecdotes. Oh, I need to use that. Will cite the source. And your gepetto libretto just makes me smile.
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