high school called…they want their drama back

15 12 2007

seriously: the real fears are large and toothy tonight, and they wholly erode my patience for any-and-everything else, so i’m probably not thinking with the utmost grace and generosity right now, but i mean it. if i drop one of these juggling balls and somebody dies i am so blaming you people & this california-raisins-soundtrack experience, & this entirely inappropriate possessive language, mr. so-last-year, is really not helping!

don’t pay any attention to me. i’m not making sense even to myself. i’ve had christmas music on all day; maybe i’ve addled my brains trying to paper-fold & wrap a zillion tiny packages (b/c when we have no money but mommy wants piles, we pile wee things!) & i worry too much (what else is new) & i’m too sensitive (ditto) & it’ll all come out in the wash. christine swore the pomegranate wouldn’t, but i don’t see the streaks, so you never know.

also, i am a jerk and three quarters–maybe even seven-eighths–because i forgot to call ima_spoony_bard yesterday on his birthday. i can’t keep up with days, numbers, recipes, appointments, packages. i can’t keep up with the people i love if they’re not standing in front of me, and even then i’m getting blurry when it comes to faces; the monsters are gating in at ludicrous speed, and i’m trying to shovel each day like it’s a driveway, one comma at a time.

shawn hands me a chewable vitamin while i’m editing, & i beam at the shape etched in: “it’s a tiger!” then he snorts like i’m retarded. “no it’s not. it’s very little.” “oh. it’s a toyger!” if only i could spend all day (“hi, my name is bobby!”) four years old. the next blizzard’s started. i should spend tomorrow on the tarmac, peeling thin layers up as fast as they come down, at least until my wrists give out. but there’s a candy-bar in my coat-pocket, & maybe, maybe, it’ll pull me through.

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