grindchopblend

Okay… here’s the deal. My co-worker likened this piece of music to my mindset the other day. I was feeling all guilty about writing negative stuff in the blog all the time so I started to write something cheerful… like this….

“It’s all captured in the small moments. Like laughing with a coworker who you think secretly despises you but sometimes you still laugh together and you can’t believe she wouldn’t really love you on some level. Like getting a totally strong show of support from a friend who thinks you might need him to have your back. Like having a beautiful daughter who tells you honestly you’re not always the best mom but you’re a good enough mom. Like having friends who stick by you no matter what. There’s beauty in the interactions and in all of the day to day struggle. “

Hear the birds singing? See the clouds parting? Feel the sun shining down upon you now?

So my friend B says, more or less, that this is just not like me… it’s like Beethoven’s No. 8 in C Minor… all minor chords, those unrelenting minor chords, just till the last part where he switches to C major and it sounds all pretty for a little bit, but then… bam! Back to C minor for the finish… like “hell no… I’m going back to the minor chords .. screw that pretty, melodic shit…”

So today I listened to the piece while furiously cleaning the house and working off some anxiety about finances, an upcoming trip to Canada (where I might be denied entry due to an old run-in with the law…. makes me sweat just to think about it) and life in general.

I don’t know. I think the pretty shit is nice sometimes. I guess we should enjoy it when it comes round. That is all.

Today it is raining…. surprise! I was supposed to get my yard cleared by the lawn service people but i suppose the rain cancels that out. I woke up at 9 to take E. to school as she missed the bus. Came back home and went back to sleep till 1. My day off work and I feel like a total waste. In fact, I feel on the verge of totally losing it. I blog because it might help put a stopper in the drain before I go spinning down into it. Obama…. where are you when I need you? Obama….. you’re supposed to care about me. Obama… you’re supposed to feel the pain of the struggling single mother with stability issues. And I have a dog too. Don’t you love the puppies Obama?

I’m going to take care of myself and stop this madness. Early to bed, early to rise. No more men. Suddenly it’s raining men around here and I am losing my shit. T4 has gone over the horizon.. nothing but a trail of dust left behind. But I don’t think a replacement part is the solution. Too late. Here comes the next one arriving on the crazy bus….. Me? I’m going to hightail it to a nice cozy place under the next rock I can find.

I really don’t remember what I dreamt last night. I went to bed with a couple of glasses of wine in me, a heavy dose of cough syrup for this bloody cough that is killing me, and a valium. I had to sleep in the upright position so the lungs wouldn’t fill up with whatever it is they’re trying to purge during the night. Amazingly, I slept pretty well. And I woke up with a feeling of strange clarity about my situation. My situation is complicated on all levels but I think if I tackle one little chunk at a time I can figure it out. Sometimes being sick can be a gift. It can take you off the treadmill and plunk you down on the side of the circus road and force you to stop the madness. I’m not saying I’m mentally cured. Just saying I think I have a clue about what I need to do now.

You’re 5 years old today. You’ve done some pretty cool stuff for such a young thing. And your daddy W and granddaddy Dick have done an amazing job of feeding you with the blood of thousands of innocent Iraqis, young American, British and other nameless countries’ soldiers, not to mention the trillions of dollars they’ve spent on you to make sure you can continue to trounce, stumble and cavort around over there, drunk from all the success. And you’re not done yet are you? Uncle McCain is gonna keep you in the money for maybe another hundred years. Cousins Blackwater and Halliburton luff ya so much baby, they’re crying tears of pure joy on your special day ….. Your godfather Osama is so proud he’s about to bust. I can just see him partying down over there in Pakistan like it’s 2099. The American Sheeple might seem a little sad to see you turn five – wasn’t it just yesterday you were a little tyke pulling down statues and looking for flowers along the road along the way from the airport to Baghdad ???  …… but don’t worry… they support you still. Because not to would be unpatriotic.  So….. happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, you look like a quagmire, and you smell like one too!!!!

Photo courtesy of Madame Galina’s Iraq Tour

Ken Schram. He’s opinionated, provocative and fugly. Isn’t it about time you got someone equally or MORE provocative and definitely more good looking to replace him? Ken’s been around for way too many years. Now time to UPDATE~~

Toby Hayse… for your perusal….is the perfect guy for the job. If you don’t take him I’m promoting him to KING5 or that other station here in Seattle. C’mon people. Let’s take this shtick into the 21st Century. Read his blog and know he is not only smart, hot and funny… he needs the forum and the forum needs him. I’m sick of Schram. Schram is like the 70 year old Children’s Librarian at my library who should have retired a LOOOONNNG time ago….. C’mon Ken…. give it up and hand the reigns over to Mr. Toby Hayse.

this is kinda old news but i love this picture.  St. Obama can even make emo folks have hope.  Now that’s sayin something.

This day at the library has pushed me over the edge. I spent about an hour listening to an older Romanian gentleman telling me the story of his life but I could only understand about every 5th word he was saying…something about all the money he had and a woman he married who stole his jewelry although he had bought her a Lamborghini . And yadda yadda yadda… it finally dawned on me that perhaps he was a little nuts but I was kind of getting into just smiling and nodding. And thinking about that $1,800 car repair bill I have to pay tomorrow…. hmmm……  As I was still recovering from that interaction, another older guy came in and asked about getting a book so I flat out asked him “do you have a Lamborghini ?””” as I and the other librarian were rolling on the floor laughing… and the man says “no, but I have a BMW”… so I was trying to get him an ILL but he said he was on his way to the Carribean at which point I said wait till you get back to do this dude, but if you want me to go to the Carribean with you I will.  Of course, this is all highly inappropriate and unprofessional but hey! I’ve got bills to pay people.  I have 2.5 hours left in this shift and I just am praying to the god of Lamborghinis that I make it through without totally losing it.

for the world record of longest ear hair. did you see that shit on Olbermann? jesus christ we were about to vomit over here. but back to the Colbert Show…..McGovern is sweet and smart and I can’t even believe he’s still alive, much less sporting that ear beard challenge to the Indian guy. I love this old dude. Can an Idealist win a presidency, Colbert asks? Thomas Jefferson and Abraham Lincoln, McG says have done it before….. I need to go back and get some skoolin cause I don’t really know what (1) an Idealist is (in this context) and (2) what those guys had to do with it. bbbbbbuuuuutttt wait? He has endorsed Hillary???? Before he knew Obama??? And now Colbert asks him if he’s on ACID??? Jesus Christ….. and he takes it well…..

The topic of the day. Let’s all say a few Hail Marys and begin shall we? First off, I’m really sad. Really really sad. I thought I had a handle on the relationship with the boy. Sadly, I think I have just been fooling myself. And making a fool of myself at the same time. Sad is a word I might tend to overuse in this post. I’ll try to think of synonyms like morose, bereaved, bitter, blue, cheerless, dejected, depressed, despairing, despondent, dismal, doleful, forlorn, grieved, heartbroken, heartsick, languishing, lugubrious, morbid, weeping, woebegone. And stuck in the pathetic fallacy.. okay that doesn’t really fit but I do like the way it sounds. And the pathetic fallacy is something I am totally into. 

I went to a party last night. A friend’s 50th birthday. He had rented a performance hall and had all his musician friends there playing. The group was a distinct split between middle aged men and 20 something goth boys and girls (birthday boy’s kids and their friends). First I wowed the middle aged men with my hilarious verbocity, my performance of my famous hit tune “Daddy Fucks Dobermans” and my dazzling good looks.  But then I found myself drawn to the 20 somethings with their purple hair, multiple piercings and tattoos.  The truth is I made an ass out of myself. As is often the case, when faced with a somewhat uncomfortable social situation I really crank up the “oh I’m so special” routine and unleash the ego into overdrive.  I gave the host a hug and left.

When I got home I called the boy about 50 times, after having called him about 50 times from the party where I was unceremoniously making a total fucking ass out of myself.  The boy was in a bar in a seedy part of town and not too thrilled with my idea of humor in calling him an asshole and having my new buddy at the party call him one too. But we were kidding.  Sorta. Anyway, after the additional calls made upon my return home, the boy relented and came over.  We listened to some Steven Wright and laughed but then the conversation turned to who he was doing the night before.  I realized I am right back in the same boat I was in back in October and that boat is a stinky, leaky piece of crap.  It’s dark, there are no oars, the engine’s blown, there is nothing but bleak echoing emptiness in that boat.  And a howling sea tosses it mercilessly against the rocky shore.

This story goes downhill from here so I think I’ll just stop while I’m ahead and say today I am at work and have to excuse myself from dealing with the public because if anyone even looks at me funny I am going to cry and vomit and fall on the floor flailing my limbs or clawing at my eyes……  it is that bad.

Where DOES it all end? Obviously it ends after all is said and done. After the fat lady sings. When pigs fly, when hell freezes over, when you move into upper management, when you’re marinating in soil and worms, when you’ve moved into shart mode, the jig is up, the farm is bought, the hellish sensation that you’ve been there before sets in, tax season grasps you by the balls and nails you to the desktop, the seratonin uptake inhibitor is neither uptaking nor inhibiting, in fact you are exhibiting on the downbeat, and the symphony is playing on and on. You’re toast. You’re so yesterday. Your mold is showing, your eyes have seen the glory of the coming, you bet the farm and your dog died too. You’ve gone to the dirt archives. The cat is on the bed. You’ve put the smack down on it all, you eat the big one, you eat the little ones too, and then they eat you. Repeat.