Broken Record

It seems that Reverend Mykeru, Gidget's dreamboat, has melted down. Totally. Gotten himself into a tizzy. Lost all self control! Whew. The things you see in the blogosphere. Well, I will be waiting for his reconstruction. Unfortunately, I have a feeling things are gonna get worse before they get better.

Have you ever lost it over a lover? I once broke a McDonald & Giles album after finding my college boyfriend in bed with another girl. He got her pregnant, she had an abortion and she came to his house for consolation. Standing at his bedroom door, I gave them both a beer, acted like nothing was wrong, everything was cool. I was open, I shared, it's cool, it's cool. It's cool! Then I went back to my dorm room and flew into a fucking rage. Jesus! I felt guilty, maybe for being a woman. For being alive. For being Dolly's daughter. For being jealous.

Holy fucking shit. Possession is one hell of a burden. Soon my divorce will be final. It has taken almost four years to realize that I have done it again. Surprise! I discovered the lover, I offered the beer, I flew into a fucking rage, I felt guilty for being me, I fell apart. It's cool, I'm open, it's cool. I I held on I retreated I ranted I twisted I turned I wiggled on my belly like a reptile I felt guity I was jealous I deconstructed I broke the motherfucking record.

Veronica, how can my life be ok? How can I find enthusiasm? How can I remember to turn off the stove, lock the door, be afraid? Being afraid takes so much energy. What about manicures? I can't do that, Veronica, I tried. The upkeep of being in the middle wears me fucking out. So I give it up. I give it up now. All of it.

The world is now covered in white. Overnight the drip drip drip of unseasonal warmth ceased, and icy winds began to blow through the trees outside my window. Under the streetlight snow swirls nicely, caught in a dark VanGogh sky, in quiet slow beauty, cold dispassion.