Today sucked. For whatever reasons I hated everyone. It's times like this that the first solution that comes to my mind is to kill myself. I just don't want to live in a world filled with the kind of shit this one is filled with. I know that sounds like a cop out. I know I should focus on the positive good things. But I just want to cease to exist. I am too good, even with my flaws, to continue to exist in this shithole called reality. I feel death for myself or I want to destroy the world. Fucking bomb everything and kill everyone (metaphorically, of course). It's strong emotions for my little frame probably wracked full of chemical hormones. Fight or flight. Mad Max road rage.
This mood only worsened on the drive home, behind sheeply drivers (20 mph max up coldwater) behind sunday driving potty mouth cursers law breakers on mulholland and retarded gridlockers. I am driving a weapon, but where is my battering ram?
I know in these times, the times I hate my fellow stupid race, that I just need to get home as fast as possible and not leave. Heather, the introvert, needs massive rejuvenation. Alone. Solitude. Leave me the fuck alone with my thoughts and my books and my ideas and my notebooks. Leave me alone with my crackpot theories and understandings of the universe and why we all exist.
Sometimes the simple nourishment of this fragile ethereal temple called my body is much of what it takes to calm my torrid 3rd world Armageddon vision. But an hour wait for the pizza delivery was too long. Might as well blow my head off. (Yes, I can be a bit extreme at times.) The boyfriend convinced me that it was better to go to astroburger instead and to live another day.
I flipped my unicorn hair and off we went - me sulking and vomiting venom through words. He's telling me to use the power of my mind, but what in my mind is not pleasant at all. We're walking in and waiting in line. I'm still grumpy, pondering what I might want. And then, someone walks in who make me re-think about destroying the world in fire and ice: David Lynch.
I do a double-take. He looks just like his picture. He's wearing a suit. A young unshaven man is with him. They are right behind me in line. I think, hmmm, I guess David Lynch is a pretty good reason to let the world continue in my mind. I'm thinking about my banana costume and syd who makes tesla coils. I think of Iowa fields, the gothic house and TM. For some reason these are the things that are loosely associated with David Lynch in my brain.
I'm not even going to say a word. I'm playing it cool - with my rainbow dyed unicorn hair of course they would stare. Just another day in Hollyweird. What would / could I say to him anyway? It's the universe's little reminder - it's that glimmer of hope. It's the memory that even in all the shit of this world, there are diamonds.
Then my number is called - except it's not my number, and I already have my food - but it's the final wink, that says... what is said without words.
It's a moment. Something changes. And it matters, and yet does not. Because all this will be played out again tomorrow and the day after, and has been each day from when time began. The world is destroyed every day and rebuilt again.
*hug*
Posted by: Mike | July 16, 2008 at 09:55 PM
Alvin Straight: You don't think about getting old when you're young... you shouldn't.
Cyclist #1: Must be something good about gettin' old?
Alvin Straight: Well I can't imagine anything good about being blind and lame at the same time but, still at my age I've seen about all that life has to dish out. I know to separate the wheat from the chaff, and let the small stuff fall away.
Posted by: Joe Crawford | July 17, 2008 at 06:41 AM