under the weather

Here is my violence, this is the excuse.

Don’t expect this post to be particularly well-written, not that any of this blog is. Goodness, look at that for a clanger immediately. Shocking sentence construction. Yeah, anyway, please overlook my completely forgetting how to properly put the English language together. As the header suggests, I am not on top form today, in a number of senses.

Friday night’s reunion in Cesspit was a predictably drunken affair. The turnout was pretty good at 20, bearing in mind the rain. Good show from Roundabout School, poor from Peacock Boys, oddly random crowd from Brown Prison. Ho hum.

I think I am run down. That probably hasn’t helped. I have barely moved from my bed. The Master picked me up and we feasted on butter-drenched toast to try and get the sugar levels back up. Then I came home and went to bed. Slept most of the afternoon and late into the evening. Awoke feeling horrendous - queasy but with hint of cold. Forgot how fantastic Dirty Pretty Things is. If you didn’t watch it (from the comforts of The Duvet or not), rent it. First watched for a friend’s dissertation at university - a look at asylum and acceptance in society - it’s a beautifully shot film with delicate camera angles, long silences, blue hues.

Other great news for someone else has led to more soul searching within. We have been over this many times. There is something decidedly human about putting oneself through immense torture knowing that it will all be in vain. Yes, KNOWING. Still we do it. There’s some envy to deal with. Sometimes it all just seems so much easier for other people. The situation may be the same but I can’t see the agony. I wonder if all that talking before has ruined my chances of living in ignorance. Well, of course not. The answer is that we are all different with different thresholds and positive feedback kicks in at different levels.

Of course, the fact that I can now admit that I hold my cards a lot closer to my chest than anyone knows may have something to do with it. There are unspoken truths that stay inside because it’s so much safer that way. When there are a number of pathways ahead but painful uncertainty about which one to take, it is best to tentatively walk the chosen one in silence. Which path? Well, that would be saying but you know. Even though I didn’t say. We all know I am a liar and make halfhearted promises to myself. I am weak. I just don’t tell anyone how weak anymore.

Confused? Well, at least that means I am not the only one. It’s time to go back to not thinking, just doing. Keep a careful eye out, make sure that people that don’t know you care are ok, keep the nonchalance up. Pick them up even though it breaks you. Claim that is “just what you do”. Be the girl with the glass, the flashes of white, the executor of mayhem.

“Man, Blue soup, you know everyone.”

Sid the sloth says “I’m definitely going out with Blue soup again soon, she’s wicked.”

A great facade, a mask I always wanted. Odd to have it. Blossom Hill hides a multitude of sins. Well, if you laugh hard enough… The thing about Girls Like Me is that we are robust. We fall over all the time, but we have the good grace to do it when other people have their backs turned. It is better that way. That way we can brush our grazed knees off without being watched, and the people with the invisible trip wires are ignorant. They don’t know what they did. That is what we do when we care. Burnt toast and all that. Years of being a mug can’t be un-learnt that easily. I miss being a mug. I’ll be anyone’s mug, just to be able to eat burnt toast again.

Chin up chicken.

So, I am going back to bed. I say “going”. I haven’t gotten up yet. I am going to stay here thinking. I have my fingers crossed. For who? Well, that would be telling. The Boss has said I can have tomorrow off if I call him to discuss it. I don’t know what I am doing, but I am going to do it. It is such a mess.

I don’t really want to change a thing,
I want to stay this way,
Forever, if you don’t mind.