Hushed
June 24, 2008
My anger is a tangible thing.
It breathes, it walks, it pulses along with the music… it even drives, I discover, as cars flash by me in a haze of red and orange.
Why am I so angry this morning?
I’m not sure. It doesn’t really matter and thinking about it only makes me angrier.
I don’t want to think.
Don’t want to concentrate.
I don’t want to do anything but drive as fast as I can, with the music as loud as it can go.
I keep thinking if I can go faster, be louder, that some of this feeling will fade, that I’ll be able to stop hating everything and anyone in my path.
And I do. For the entire ride to work this morning, I hate everyone.
The guy driving along side of me, pacing himself to keep up with me, only to show me that he can… He’s a fool. He has no idea how fast anger and hatred can take you.
The woman who has decided inexplicably that the road and the driver’s seat is the best place to apply makeup. She’s dust – not even worth thinking about on this drive.
The walking speed bumps, the corpse drivers – they’re all just a quick memory as I pass by them.
They’re not as sharp as me.
As smooth as me.
As blisteringly fast as I can be.
Don’t they see it?
Don’t they see how hopeless it all is?
This competition?
I will win.
No matter what, I HAVE to win.
And just like that, it’s over.
The anger fades.
I’m fighting for my life in my mind, yet again, and I know where the anger stems from… the fact that I have to.
And with that knowledge, the anger fades.
I want the anger back. The comfort of that heat back.
The seething concentration of screams that exist on the inside.
Because if that goes… the fear is left.
And I’m so sick of the fear.
Fear makes you weak.
Weak – when just moments ago, I was like lightening.
Cards for people like me.
June 13, 2008
Seen on a ‘love’ card over at Uncookedland: ”If we weren’t together and I saw you on the street, I’d bash your head in with a brick so you would fall down and I could be there to catch you.”
From the beach to Aretha in 7 steps or less.
June 11, 2008
Today is a beach sort of day.
Living in Memphis means that I’m basically shit out of luck, but that doesn’t stop me from turning on my “I’m going to the beach!!!!” soundtrack on the way to work when I’m in this mood.
And yes, that particular line – I’m going to the beach!!!! – must always be accompanied by no less than 4 exclamation points to highlight the excitement one MUST feel by going to the beach.
It’s in the Constitution.
Right under the bit about arming bears and using turn signals on the freeway.
This morning it was the Who – and I jammed along to “Magic Bus” as only a girl who is completely out of her decade musically can, which only reminds me of the fact that you guys have yet to see me jam to Frank Sinatra and really should before you die, as nothing says hot and sexy quite like a grown woman jamming to a rockin’ swing beat.
No, I don’t really get out much… why do you ask?
While on this incredibly energetic drive/jam session, I noticed that although I know the basic gist of the song, I have NO IDEA what half of the words are saying. I’ve got the main “Magic Bus” part down – because I’m not a total idiot, but have been singing for years in this sort of loud drunken-ish method that I usually save for Bob Dylan or Hootie and the Blowfish songs.
I’ll probably stick to my method because it works and also means that when I am actually drunk I sound just as good as when I’m sober.
It also makes me sound like a lyrical genius who even can figure out what those few little words are at the end of “Respect” but just can’t master the art of singing well enough to enunciate clearly.
After a few nights of bad karaoke, I know that I’m not the only person that employs this method of lyric recognition.
Because we are on the threshold of dark days…
June 9, 2008
But not for reasons THEY may think.
“As I tore the pages, I felt a generational curse of immorality and perversion breaking off my family,” Adriane Banks said. “I felt it.”
The article is too funny to really be too disturbed about it. With gems like the one above, you sort of figure these people have fasted themselves to a more enlightened crazy way of thinking.
One up on Whitney.
June 6, 2008
There is something to be said for having a moment or two to breathe and take a little time away from what is bothering you.
While I won’t ever get the latter, I have been getting the former in spades, and enjoying every bit of it – even as it is punctuated by vanilla Snack Pack moments and rampant House rerun watching.
