Author: substitute

nope

The Earthquake at Lisbon

Jo is one of the employees at Diedrich Coffee where we all hang out.

She’s probably in her late forties (streaks of gray in the black), a pleasant outgoing woman who is always cheerful and works very hard. Slinging coffee is her second job; she works full-time in medical research as well. She has a couple of kids. Her husband left her years ago. She also cares for elderly parents who increasingly need a lot of supervision and assistance.

This year Jo got the influenza pretty badly and ended up with both viral and bacterial pneumonia; she had to be hospitalized for a few days. She also seriously injured her foot, and it isn’t healing up too well. She wears one of those protective immobilizing boot things on her foot the second half of the shift most of the time.

So here we have a middle-aged woman who spends approximately 18 hours a day caring for elderly parents and children and working two jobs, who has been having some serious medical problems lately, is flat broke, and is doing this all on her own because her man walked out on her.

The punchline? She now has lupus.

Shit ain’t right.

acb sums it up again

yup.

”It’s a sobering thought that, as you read this, in candle-lit suburban bedrooms all over North America, pizza-faced teenaged girls in size-XXL Hot Topic fishnet tops are pouring her fantasies about Legolas (”OMG he’s so hott!!!1!”) and angst about their lousy non-pony-buying parents into their PCs, thus endlessly replenishing this cornucopia of pure shite for future visitors.”

it’s an imitation counterfeit

I betray others; others betray me. The cock crows three times and I’m Christ and Peter both. And so are you, so are you.

I realized the other day that my worst weakness is my hatred of weakness, in myself and others. What to do?

realitylost is a kind of saint because she gives me Half a Food, often. Thanks Susie.

My dreams lately are full of the worst emotional experiences: beloved family members despising me and openly deriding me, deadly diseases, terrible mistakes, friends in great distress. Sleep was never so stressful. But then, you know, the rest of the day is somewhat similar if less ornately horrible.

I have added yet another medical professional to my life; I have become interesting, it seems.

After these warm sunny days lately the fog rushes in like an angry linebacker and the temperature drops 30 degrees and everyone is surprised, although this happens every year.

Tonight on the patio I was in the middle of a gaggle of teens and 20somethings, nice enough kids mostly. I remember despising most of them a while back, but there’s a big difference between 17 and 20.

My irrational self – you know, the one that’s in charge – believes that I am cursed for life to offer myself to those who don’t want me.

Read any good books lately?

irc QOTD

Citizen_X: This Dallas thing is weighing on my mind for this weekend. Do I want to drive five hours to see the Violent Femmes play an afternoon St. Patrick’s parade?
ignatz: you could get green vomit on you
Citizen_X: I think I will instead listen to /Add It Up/ whilst sitting in a bathtub of ice until my ass goes numb.

spring hurts sometimes

I have appointments with two psychology professionals and one medical doctor this week.

Monk playing piano helps smooth things out during difficult weeks.

I realized the other day that the week is my basic unit of time. I think in terms of weekdays and weekends, and what happens on what days. I really do not notice months or years. Could this be a problem?

I’m not sure I like being at D’s very much lately. The patio atmosphere means that I never actually have a conversation with one person, even when I really need to. Someone else always shows up and it’s time to tell jokes or tell work stories instead of whatever happens. Or someone more important than me shows up and I feel small. It’s high school.

I haven’t smoked in a couple days and I don’t really notice that. This seems good to know that I enjoy smoking but it doesn’t seem to be a constant requirement. Same with alcohol. Haven’t wanted any, haven’t had any for a bit.

The Rickie Lee Jones song “Satellites” keeps popping into my head, as does “The Kids Are All Right” by the Who.

If I had what you wanted, I’d give it to you, you know. You do know, don’t you?

This one’s for the right to petition

Three of us sat down together tonight. Two of us had breakdowns today and the third caused one.

I know I shouldn’t apologize for the things I keep apologizing for but I’m sorry for all of them anyway, and there I go again. I feel like you and I played a game of paper scissors rock and we both lost somehow. Nothing is okay and I don’t know what to do about it.

Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like the pretty little Mexican girls running around outside the Target in their plastic shoes, playing tag and laughing. Then again he knew bad judgment from good, and an ultimatum from a friendship.

I laugh at things that aren’t funny. Harder, if they’re worse. Tragedy is when you lose your job or get the flu. Comedy is when my life is a river of shit and I can’t swim.

There was a moment when I successfully imagined being with you, and being the right thing for you, and the delusion felt great. I want that in pill form.