I took the pill

At midnight. And now it’s now, and I’m sleepy but also goofy and I wrote a whole post and then I deleted oops. It was a good one too.

So I took it because I knew I wasn’t gonna be able to sleep again and now it’s even later and I’m still not asleep. I even put on my reading glasses because this pill makes the words so sleepy to me and the glasses are crazy. Everything gets bigger and crisper. I don’t like it much though. Feels like a cold sterile doctor’s office. I like these softer slower words, making little cozy cushions to squish in.

But I thought with my sleepy eyes I would use the glasses to see better to type. to catch the words.

I don’t know that it’s working. I think I’m still having trouble. I do not like glasses and resent the idea, the eye-doctorly notion, I should wear them when working. So I of course went and bought a fancy expensive pair. They have green on them! Now now I never wear them. I wore them at my desk sometimes but almost never cause who wants weird boxy things over their eyes and face all day. Sheesh

And I don’t need them. I always get better than 20/20 when I take my eye exams. My eyes could kill your eyes. But also my eyes are old and loose now and they’re watery in that old lady watery way and so they wander and find new places to rest in.

The problem with this pill is the loopy part that kicks in and if you don’t get your butt in bed and get those eyes closed the loopy takes over and then who knows what happens.

I am going to pretend we all got extra fat during this past year not just me this is all of us please. I’m in a tender fragile state I need kindness. All of us. And it’s okay.

The wedding they’re planning is going to be amazing and when you say who, I cannot answer but I close my eyes and see it and it’s the complicated and in-depth affair you have always imagined it could be, with bare feet and musical instruments and the plant that creeps down the walls and into the corners and the music is the best part you don’t even. You can’t even. The music I have for you. It may be too much for you handle. Follow me and see.

I need to put this phone down. sleep.

And these glasses must go.


That head-on-heart stuff

When I can’t sleep and the clock keeps ticking, I like to lay here in the dark and imagine what someone might say to me that could make me feel deeply okay; you know, with my head on their heart, their hand on my cheek, the earthling reassurance. THAT HEAD ON HEART STUFF. You know.

It probably doesn’t exist. Isn’t possible. No words. No person. Maybe you get right words but wrong hand. Maybe you get right heart but wrong words. Never both. Right? Who gets both? Maybe some people do. What do I know.

Seems like I just enjoy the idea more than the reality. I mean sheesh. Who in this world could ever, in a thousand lifetimes, be so perfect that their physical presence was as comforting to me as their words? I’m too stupid to allow both at the same time, anyway. If your words soothe me, then I will find failure in the rhythm of your heart beat. If your heart quiets me, with its sweet little one-two one-two, then your words will sour in my ears and fill me with contempt.

Okay stupid isn’t the right word. I’m not stupid. Simple maybe? But simple in a very simple way.

You guys are these glorious multicellular organisms. Look at you, with your intricate designs. all your specialized cells working together to collectively support and carry out all the basic functions of being a normal human adult.

And then here I sit, with my boring unsophisticated one-cell schtick. The rich complexity of human life? lost on me. just a little old single cell, churning out and spreading her garbage. Nothing working together here. No siree! You say provincial, I say paramecium.

So yeah I might want a fellow earther to caress my cheek and say things designed to make me feel deeply okay, but I lack the grace to accept it when it’s right in front of me, and yet I’m too foolish to stop wanting it.

And besides. That person doesn’t exist. He just does not exist.


It’s mother’s day

I’m alone. And my mom is dead. And so

I am getting stoned very

Very
Stoned.

Even though both kids are here

And it is very late.

It only getting later. I should sleep my eyes are closed even as they’re open And still I may go take another few hits. Because I am the mother. And I am here.

And I just want to

I cleaned the bathroom but do not look in my closet. And I did dishes and also swept
And laundry.

We had a good day at the dog park too.