A piece of advice from thom yorke

don’t get sentimental, it always ends up drivel.

wise words.

now, onto the drivel…

this is actually an excerpt from a longer, much more drivelly piece of work that I wrote. talk about sentimental. god. you could kill a fricking herd of buffalos with the sentiments I was slinging out. but I liked this part and it doesn’t make me jam myself with forks. so I share, I share with you:

“I want so desperately to go back to when I was pregnant, lying on the bed, and it was dark and cool, and me, so nicely alone. the quiet, the calm I hadn’t felt in that house before. I held my hand there and we both surged with warmth. we sang to each other, we sang and we fell in love and we knew that we finally had graduated into forever. That was the most perfect moment in all our creation, our two heartbeats drumming away into nothingness, strong strong less less fainter weaker slower gone. my singularity.

but time moved on. to here, to this now, and I’m a loon job if ever there was one, and your father is just…I don’t know, he just is who he is, and we both love you but love cannot stop a supernova.”

hey I just imagined jamming myself with forks, and it wasn’t me taking a fork and stabbing into my flesh, which is appealing enough, but rather smearing sticky jam all over. you know, jamming. ha! and it was just for an instant that I pictured it, a flash, but it was hilarious. you had to be there, I suppose. had to be there in my head. so just never mind. still, I like the idea of jamming people. run up and smear jam on their arms or something. how weird would that be?

I am pretty hopeful for tonight’s elections, but I’m also counting on the democrats to screw up a sure thing. because that’s what we do. we screw up. sure things are our screwing up speciality.

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