My first love broke my heart for no real reason at all.
My second love cheated on me and caused me to lose my job.
My third love pressured me into sex I didn’t want and smashed the windshield of my car.
My fourth love said things that made me feel small.
My fifth love never stood up for me.
My sixth love was a liar and kicked me out of the country a month before our wedding.
My seventh love was verbally and emotionally abusive and an absolute nightmare.
My eighth love threatened to throw me down the stairs if I got pregnant.
My ninth love is barely interested in talking to me and constantly defensive.
My tenth…there’s just nothing left for a tenth.
Amazing photographer and great shots of Tom Waits!
30 going on 40 going on DEAD.
What dreams are made of
I really hate nightmares. The older I get the more of a psychological mind fuck they become. It’s not just ‘oh I’ve got a fear of spiders’ it’s moved on to ‘oh your irrational fear of death coincides nicely with your break up and the loss of people you cared about in the aftermath, let’s roll with it.’ And it’s all going to play out an hour before I have to get up for work. That way it will be a fresh and distressful start to my morning.
Basically, last night I had a dream I was having severe heart palpitations. Convinced I was having a heart attack and was going to die I demanded a piece of paper for which to write a letter to my ex boyfriend’s father, who always seemed very fond of me. I demanded whoever I was with deliver the letter so he could know how much I appreciated him while said ex and I were together.
Then I wake up and it’s about 6 am and no amount of tossing and turning and smothering my head under the pillow will make this little gray cloud of loss dissipate. I loved how much his father loved me…and then I go on Facebook later to discover that he defriended me, which was not something he did the last time the ex and I broke up. The loss and rejection just keep piling up like so many dead bodies during the Bubonic Plague.
I don’t think I dream anymore…my brain replays monotonous activities and then likes to enact worst case scenario situations on occasion, and that’s about it. Screw you too, brain, and all your grey matter.
So I used the reliably unreliable chat platform known as Facebook chat and got a hold of my good friend Ben Hairston from way back in my yellow IKEA uniform wearing days. We used to hang out in the wardrobe section and shoot the shit and occasionally guide some idiot through the process of purchasing a PAX wardrobe piece by fucking piece. I had a system down to make it idiot proof, which of course usually only worked part of the time, so there was an abundance of comedy fodder for us to play with.
Anyway, after I moved on to grayer pastures (London) and he moved on to more cowboy filled pastures (Texas) we’ve kept in touch with each other sporadically through Myspace and now, of course, Facebook, because at least there are no glittering pixie .gifs there to rape my corneas.
Ben’s main interest in life was not flat packed particle board in fact but in film making and script writing, which is incredibly cool and also incredibly difficult to get into. During our conversation he gave me the delightful news that he’s currently working on a project titled Mangus!
The synopsis from their website is as follows:
Mangus Spedgwick has had one dream his whole life… He wants to be Jesus – in his high school’s annual production of “Jesus Christ Spectacular”, that is. When unforeseen circumstances strike, Mangus loses the role, which was a Spedgewick family tradition. Will he get to be their town’s first crippled Jesus? Not without a hard fight, a road trip and breaking the law a few times along the way.
The casting call for extras is in a place called Waxahachie, TX which looks like ‘Wax A Hatchet’ to me, but Maryland has it’s fair share of strange looking Native American names too. Chinquapin Round Road? Susquehanna River? What?
I’d totally be up for such an adventure however America is fucking big, and Texas is like entering the Twilight Zone. Unless you’re in Austin in which case it’s mostly the Alcohol and BBQ Zone. So alas, I’ll have to wait for his next project to hang out in the background at, preferably for a zombie or post-apocalyptic flick.
Sunday, finally. After starting two new jobs, enduring holiday family time, and trying to be social whilst maintaining illusions of non-alcoholism, I’m ready to be left the hell alone. I should feel better, I think, it seems like this was what I was working towards when I got thrust back here but it still just feels…wrong. Mustering enthusiasm is like taking a deep breath of musty air and coughing out lung fulls of dust. Nothing appeals.
Hades chewed through the cord to my Christmas tree so until I find a way to repair it, no glowing tree for me. I know Christmas is over, but I was hoping for a good couple weeks of residual holiday cheer. Red cups, don’t leave me!
Netflix officially supports Mac now so time to break as many ties with reality as possible and live vicariously through fictional characters.
I’m thinking my new year’s resolution is going to be…wait for it…keep hydrated.