I found this earlier this morning over at NYC girl at heart and realized that I complain entirely too much, so I made a mental note to think about it and blog later this evening. Well it’s later this evening now, but I haven’t thought about it until now. (Why am I so negative?) But, better late than never, n’est-ce pas?
So here goes: The Ten Happiest Days of My Life (in chronological order or as close to it as I can manage)
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Do you mind if I’m a little fragmented today?… Oh man, I don’t even know how to excerpt this post because I have no idea what it’s about! Sorry… forgive me… I’ll be cohesive tomorrow, I promise.
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I think I watched the door. There’s not much else to watch before service begins. I don’t know what I was looking for. I knew who was going to be there. Sister So-and-so, Brother So-and-so, Deacon So-and-so, and other characters all dressed and sanctimonious, carrying bibles and greeting each other like “Praise Him, sister!” when they want to say “good morning.” I wasn’t watching for them, of course. I knew what to say to them. “Good morning” is the extent of most of our conversation.
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At the same time, I could see myself, only white and balding and fifteen years older, holding on tightly to someone else’s kids, to a metrocard, to a pillow, to a job, to an inanimate intangible thing, to a blogroll, to a bottle of alcohol… to a guitar student who can’t pay for her lessons…
...read more hereI had a spectacular post all written out in my head, but by the time I got here I just… I don’t know. It was about my mother. Family drama. Phone calls. Something like that. Maybe I’ll write a reflection on it later this week. As for right now, though, here’s a meme:
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Some people would call this a funny twist of fate. The Christians might call it divine will. Still other people might call it an asinine and callous error on the part of the pastor’s wife. However you want to put it, something is almost certain to happen. Something.
...read more here…I got up and paced around that little room singing over and over again “It’s a happy day and I thank God for the weather…” and then I changed the tune. And then I changed the lyrics. And then I changed them back. And I kept singing. I sang until I got tired, but I couldn’t stop, because I knew instinctively that I was keeping the demons away by singing. So I sang. And I paced. And I sang…
...read more hereI came uptown because I wanted tequila. I wanted to drown myself in something sweet and alcoholic. I forewent my yoga lesson. I walked into the building, then changed my mind and walked out of it. I wanted to go home, but I haven’t been home since 2008. I wanted food, and could have stopped by the pizza place on st mark’s, but it almost seemed pointless to eat. I wanted to drink until I passed out.
...read more here… in the same way that the Christians claim that demons tremble at the name of Jesus, I feel a slight trepidation every time I hear his name called, even if it’s in reference to someone who isn’t him: an actor, a ball player, a famous movie character… it doesn’t matter if I know the reference or not. His name was called. I tremble… briefly. My breath quickens… briefly…
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…my initial reaction was to pretend to be happy for him while snickering to myself that his new girlfriend is by no means going to solve all of his mental issues and that in a few months or a few years he’ll be right back where he was where I found him: drinking whiskey like a fish in st. nick’s pub while looking for a woman to court and spark.
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