Dogface
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Anxious & depressed, I won't leave go of anything.
I have so far abstained from drink, which is, I suppose, something. Of late I have been hitting it a little harder and more consistently than is probably wise. It's become a bit like breathing. Automatic, and really desirable only when you stop doing it for a minute or two.
So, until the weekend I can just stew in my own juices.
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More than anything, I seem to want out of my own head.
I don't much like the company.
I am sick of my self.
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I know it's all illusory. It's just me. In my head, in my body. Nothing to do with the real world.
Except.
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It's the only world I got access to.
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Namaste.
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posted by tearful dishwasher at 6:01 PM
8 Comments:
"It's the only world I got access to."
Wouldn't it be nice if we could leave our heads and hang out somewhere else for a while?
I'd like to.
I like your company. Blog away.
well, in my experience, after a year or ten of not drinking, you really, really get sick of your self.
but it gets better. you finally figure out you can leave the room. sometimes.
i like that you allow us to look inside.
I love that dogface. And you. You're kinda just amazing, don't care what you think of yourself.
I don't believe we are intended to be mired in ourselves, though the accumulated goo can hold us in place for a long time and the voices that talk to us there do not have our interests at heart.
Lyn-
Thank you. I probably wouldn't like being in somebody else's head any more than mine, though.
I'm just a cranky s.o.b.
susan-
i get such a nice and laid back vibe from you. i don't know why it is, but i do.
and i'm glad for it.
one thing I do know is that i would like to sit on a wide porch with you of an evening and watch the sun go down and the night fall all around us as you tell me why and what for.
but i am always greedy in this way, so there you go.
21k-
dear god. i have chosen to believe that we HAVE had a drink together, you and me and Jim and Rebecca, and that's it.
I have some hazy recollection of a dusky evening of tears and recriminations, all from others directed at us, and us not giving a good god-damn.
And I beat James at arm-wrestling.
And you beat me at gator wrestling.
And Rebecca beat us all at flying around the lamplight and baying at the moon.
Scorching her wings, etc.
Sometimes (mostly) I feel like the worst kind of imposter. Not here, or now, but when I am doing my real job.
Ha.
That, too, is a lie.
As Whitman would say, I contain multitudes. Or something like that.
Marylinn-
I think you are right about that. That and many other things.
Thank you for you.
That is what I mean.
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