Sunday, June 19, 2011

Journal 34 Suburbia Part One

My e to L says it all tonight...

Listening to madonna, just dashed off a blog post, and i've
treated this weekend like I've been at an all inclusive--unlimited
pills, cheap wine, good meals, and staying at my mom's or on my
sigh sar. it's not nearly as hedonism II as it sounds. Bed by 10, slow
thoughts, tears, near-empty glasses of wine, regrets, bad tv, books,
and my head, my head in the endless loop of missing of why of
no no no.
I've caught myself on the phone to my mom "how is dad" and caught
myself wanting to send him an email, to hear his frail voice, to watch
his face light up as I described some crazy thing my cousin had done.

Thank you for being 'sad by association' sar' i know you are.
OH god. Madonna just came on "This Used to be my Playground".

I didn't run today. Every muscle aches (physical pain of grief as Joan Didion
decribes in Year of Magical Thinking) I did run 3x this week, and swang on the
empty park swings of a suburban playgroud (my next blog entry is about
barren suburbia yes I made some notes. creepy. I would go out for my runs,on trails, behind peoples' HUGE fence-in back yards and NO ONE was ever in's like that song...Sprawl. I went on three long runs, and on two of them I stopped at an empty park, swang on the swings which held my weight, thankfully, pumped my legs toward the sky, felt a little less 'earth-bound', just me, my shoes, my tunes, and the birds. And the maybe five people I saw walking small overweight dogs).

Today's bitch slap blog
post was brought to you by my roof, my deep anger at my aunt, and the
hot sun beating down as drank light white wine out of a gatorade bottle.
As of right now, I'm xanaxed, bathed, orange-thyme candles lit, rosemary cream,
calamine for my burnt shoulders, and it's official, with the excetpion of 2 hours with tricia on the roof and driving my mom into the city with me, i've been alone all day.
alone with the pictures, the prayer cards (i'll mail to you as soon as canada post
decides summer vackay is over), with the bouquets of flowers, with my
feeling of unreality, with my wine,/gingerale combo, chicken dinner.

Oh god Madonna. ... "The best things in life are always freeeeeeeeee....wishing
you were here with me". and by you I mean you and my dad.

sunday. can't trust that day today.
Ok the blog. says it better than i can.
re; father's day double at the whistle (didn't your scope mentione a WHISTLE?)
be true to thine own self.

Suddenly, in these last few months, life no longer seems long. It seems short, precious,
and very very elusive to the grasp.

much love to you and to your fam..yes, they did cheer, in thru my closed window they shone
some light.
xoxoxo cc

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