I'm out of everything. This must have some deeper psychological significance. The vitamins are gone. I haven't a single paper towel. I don't have any garbage bags and the razor blades I bought don't fit the razor. I don't have any laundry detergent. There is not toilet paper to replace what is left on a very skimpy roll.
Why must people marry at all to give their benefits to someone? This is the unasked/unanswered question. My gay friends (what a fucking thing to say) were excited by yesterday's Supreme Court decision even though they don't think it went far enough. I cackle. "You will be coerced into marriage," I say. "You will help perpetuate the entire marriage farce."
My benefits and my estate (whoa!) should go to whomever I want them to go to (sorry, I couldn't get away from the prepositions). I want Friends with Benefits.
The entire concept of family and parenthood are now a giant social construct. Well. . . it was giant before, but it has gotten bigger. I will adopt three Thai girls, stair steps, and be their daddy in my old age. I, like Liberace, will leave my fortune to these fabulous kids. My little girls. My heirs. Bright as they can be. Pretty, too. It will be a handsome family.
Why can't I be happy for others? Why do I always have to go another step? Why can't I simply say, "Yay, Gay Marriage." Why must it be just another structure to kick against (o.k., against which to kick)? This is little better than what I deleted yesterday though it isn't confessional. My wiring has gone wrong. Everything is misfiring.
For those of you who have been clamoring for a self-portrait, here it is. This is it. Alone in the Void. No benefits. No beneficiaries. An uncaring cosmos. Rain is poison. Sex is death. The polar ice caps are breaking up and melting. The only way to maintain the structure is to let the outsiders in. Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain. Under which shell is the coin. Best two out of three. Paula Dean will be forgiven and richer than ever. She will host a television show with O.J directed by Spike Lee called "Crackers and Juice."
Jesus, I've lost my mind.
I was out of everything last two weeks. A mega sale kept me from being a good mother. I left her once-freshly-picked-now-molded strawberries to eat for 10 days and enough magazines to wipe for a month.
ReplyDeleteThank goodness I've always been her mother which translates to she's learned to be quite adaptive and even still loves me despite being a bit of a fuck up sometimes -- but hey! I took for her first massage yesterday. She loved it. but off course.
I'm incredibly stoned and alone which means I will now type a zillion words. I sent my son off on his Grand Tour tonight. He fucked up a million times before even getting to the airport. Didn't get a cab reservation at the right time to be at the airport in enough time to relax -- didn't sign his new adult passport -- his tickets didn't have his full name on them and he had to go back to ticketing and almost miss his plane. And of course I got all those angst messages via TEXT for 3 hours.
I really needed sitting in the sea through mist, smoking a bowl and having a lime-flavored beer. :)
But but he's off, my sweet boy.
Parts of this post may be considered genius. or at least -- very excellent.
DeleteOh and I mean parts of YOUR POST maybe be considered genius, of course. But I just read it back and it could be construed as me thinking I am saying parts of my own post ... blah blah blah.
I'm stoned. Sigh.
Jesus Christ, L, where's your thinking? Tell her to keep things stocked in the house. All you have to do is keep her well-stocked with money. She'll know what to do (though if she is like her mother, who knows) :)
Deletea most excellent post...and I am not stoned! Crackers and juice!
ReplyDeleteCall Lisa :)
Delete