insanity


Drowning2

I took a blanket and a bottle of wine and a pack of cigarettes to the beach. I was determined to walk into the icy waters of Puget Sound and either freeze or drown or both. It was past midnight. I chose the most beautiful part of Alki beach.. the very private and lovely Lowman Beach. On a very secluded street, I parked in front of the Rubber Ducky Museum, which is a favorite landmark amongst locals and my daughter especially.  It is extremely precious. Sidewalk fountains adorned with rubber duckies of all styles, tiny water slides into a little pool, a shrine for  the rubber ducky. …. amazingly never touched by vandals.. I thought of how my daughter loved that place  as I parked there planning my exit from the world.

I sat on the beach for a while, drinking straight from the bottle. Smoked a cigarette. And then proceeded to walk into the water. It was amazingly NOT cold. I swam out pretty far from the shore. I turned onto my back and floated, looking at  the night sky and the moon. It was beautiful. Then I remembered why I was there and tried to force myself below the water. I could not. I kept emerging. My self wouldn’t let myself annihilate myself. I floated for a long time. It seemed like hours. Time was frozen. The tide carried me down the beach. I became disoriented. I swam to shore but I was now in an unfamiliar place on the beach. Nothing but rocks and craggy sharp edges. I could not stand. I think my muscles had frozen from the cold. I kept falling and cutting my hands and legs. Hitting my head on the rocks. I tried to crawl. I was getting nowhere. I laid there and decided I would just die from exposure. Then I started crying out for help. There were houses up the hill. Nobody was around. I was alone and cold and wet and bleeding.  I gave myself one last push to find my way back to where I had started and somehow crawled and stumbled back there.

A couple was sitting on the beach by the driftwood logs with bottles of liquor. The girl wanted to help me. The guy seemed incapacitated – he could not get up either…funny…and he kept telling me to come lie down by him. I just sat there crying. The girl had a cell phone and asked who she could call to help me. I had her call my ex husband. I tried to find my purse and blanket which were nowhere to be found. I had no cell phone, no nothing. I figured the tide had taken them out to sea. Time had no meaning. I was lost.

After making the call, the couple decided they’d better get the hell away from me. Certainly I was trouble. They gave me a towel and left. I was freezing. Frozen solid sitting on a driftwood log. I decided to try to go to the street to see if my ex was looking for me. A resident of the hood  was walking down the sidewalk ,  all well dressed and handsome. I can only imagine what he thought seeing me stumbling around the sidewalk with soaking wet sandy clothes and a towel wrapped around me. He asked what I was doing and I told him I had tried to drown myself. He called the only two numbers I could remember. Again the ex husband and the ex boyfriend.  No answers. He called 911. He called his wife to tell her he had found a woman who had tried to kill herself and he had to stay  till help arrived. I went back to the shore to look for my stuff. I couldn’t see or feel my limbs by this point. My glasses had somehow managed to stay on my face but I still could see nothing in the dark. There was nothing.

Eventually my  husband arrived and explained to the good Samaritan that he would take me home. No 911 needed, although they were on their way. He drove me home. He left me alone in my apartment. I took a really long steaming hot shower and then put on my warmest pj’s. It took hours to warm up.

I brushed myself with near death. Stupid. Selfish. Self-centered. Wanting out of the struggle. But then I couldn’t do it. I am still here. And write here for your entertainment. Feel my pain. I want you to. Things will be better in the morning. I’m sure of it.

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crazy-cat

I am once again revisiting  the eternal struggle to wash my brain of  the boy.  To find the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The ups and downs of  this relationship have been documented in this blog for a long time.  I am not clear on why I cannot get over him. It’s been 2.5 years of continuous and alternating pain and joy.  It’s like fucking Brokeback Mountain for heterosexuals.  We’ve gone from being sorta together (boy don’t do monogomy), to being totally cut off, to being fuckbuddies, to being homemade porn stars, and now back to crazytown.  He has a new fling. A freaking 26 year old. Not that hot, but obviously she’s got something he wants for now.  I am having fucking NIGHTMARES about it all. 

While the boy is charming and funny and smart, his life is a total trainwreck.  I should be glad to let someone else deal with his drama for a while.  Would I really want him if he was mine to have? Why am I so attached? So obsessed?  There is obviously a connection there that strikes a deep and primal chord in me. The only way I can explain it is that pain and drama are so heavily ingrained in my psychological makeup, that he is the perfect fit for that very self defeating, masochistic chink in my brain.  He fills a part of me that thrives on this stuff and it makes for a very powerful addiction.  Add to that:  I just love being around him. And the sex is perhaps the best I’ve ever had. The perfect trifecta for addiction. I feel like it is going to kill me. I cannot let that happen. What the hell?  I need electro shock therapy. I need to move to another country. I can’t believe I am back here again. I guess I never really left.  Writing about it is therapy for me. In which case, I should be doing a lot more writing……..

Actual_Beached_Whale

Library officials on Monday located a Plus Size Librarian who had been missing for more than two hours after she was believed to be oversleeping or overdosing, or both, a top Library official said.

The Librian was located at her basement dwelling, in the bathroom, via cellphone, said Library Administrator Peavey Higenbotham. “The Librarian has been moved to our anti-social subversive employee holding area where she is sarcastically answering questions,” Higenbotham said.

The questioning aims to clarify all circumstances of how she disappeared and why she did not send any (emergency) signals or call her branch library to alert them of her whereabouts.

The Librarian, who often uses various aliases such as “Lefty” or “Cherry”, had not been heard from since Saturday.  When last seen she was carrying approximately 20 pounds of extra weight, several tons of excess baggage and a rather large, scabbous cold sore on her bottom lip and chin. 

She was scheduled to arrive in her branch library at 11:30 a.m. Monday morning. The news came from several bitchy employees who had immediately begun speculating that the Librarian was cavorting with a local Jamaican male, known for his propensity for late night showering. 

The U.S. military also had a report last week that the Librarian’s car  had been seen skirting the runway at McChord Air Force base south of Tacoma. She appeared disoriented and totally clueless that she was headed in the oppposite direction of Seattle where she was destined according to several sources. The U.S. military was not involved in the search.

The branch Manager, Helmut Schmidt, had previously spoken to the Librarian about her irratic behavior and ongoing acts of anarchy within the branch.  While he had considered placing her on suicide watch, he was waiting to see if her antidepressants would kick in at some point over the weekend.  

“The Librarian has now arrived at work, she is missing the majority of her hair and several bald spots are visible but she appears otherwise unharmed, unless you count the cold sore which persists and the strange rash that has appeared on her chest, just above her rather abundant cleavage. Disciplinary action could be forthcoming depending on the Librarian’s willingness to provide free blowjobs for management, once the cold sores and rashes clear up.

rat

I found this post title in my draft posts the other morning. I think my intention that late night back on July 3, was to write about my ratty who I had discovered dead at 3 a.m. when I got up to get a glass of juice.  Wonder what I thought I could write in my sleep walking state? Oh well… that shall remain a mystery. At any rate, as those 2 of you who read my drivel know, I have had two black hooded female rats for a couple of years. Delilah came first and then we decided she needed company and bought Baby. They have been delightful creatures but I have found them to be fairly high maintenance and somewhat demanding. They’re smart, so they need attention.  I am guessing since Baby died, Delilah will probably go soon since they were each other’s world. These will be the last rodents we will own. Ever. We have had white mice, hamsters, pygmy hamsters and now rats. They don’t live long and the cemetary plot is getting full.

Scout’s ashes came back in a sweet little wooden box. We put it by a photo of him and my daughter and put his purple collar over the picture frame. The loss of  Scout still looms on my psyche’s horizon. I never fully grieved his death. And now we have Willy. Crazy Willy. He’s like a giant Scout with brain damage. It all makes for some very weird feelings.  Developing affection for a new dog is not difficult for me, being an avid animal lover, but still I feel like I’m betraying Scout in some way.  It’s as if I took my emotions and stuffed them in a bag and then just tacked them onto Willy. Weird and disorienting on some level.

On other fronts, the train keeps barrelling down the crazytracks. I’ve decided to just start chasing butterflies and give up on worrying about anything.  Besides, I hear conflicting stories about the world ending or being beset by solar flaring in 2012 according to the Mayan calendar, so if I can just keep the bill collectors at bay for a few more years I should be set.

helen1962
Spent yesterday splashing around in the backyard pool at the ex’s with my daughter and the dogs. It’s one of those medium size above-ground deals, not a real pool, mind you. But we floated around and ate hot dogs and watched the doggies chase each other and I wore a bikini, which was a sight to see, because there was no one to endure the spectacle besides my daughter and the ex, so who cares? Anyway it was pretty pleasant but the girl ended up with quite a sunburn on her back. Why this is interesting at all will be explained later in this post.

So last night, we were looking through my closet for a pair of pants I couldn’t find and she turns to me and says “Don’t worry, mom. I already found your dildo.” With her little mischevious smile these words came from her baby mouth??? I asked how she even knew the word “dildo”, to which she replied “I’m in 7th grade.” Ughhhhhhh…. Still processing the encounter. I didn’t make too big a deal of it. I guess the less said the better in this case. We did laugh a little over it, so at least there was humor in the interaction. My hope is that humor will save me from many bad parenting moments. And there have been so many, as you might guess.

Today, I am at work in my neighborhood library and she walked over from the apartment to see me here. Her back is killing her from the sunburn so I take her over to the drugstore across the street and buy some soothing spray for the burn. We come back here to the library and go into the public restroom. She takes her shirt off so I can spray her back. She can’t wear a bra due to the pain, so she’s basically nude from the waist up. I spray her back and then decide I have to pee so while she’s letting the air dry her back I’m there peeing and notice her hair has fallen into the wet spray. I hop up, pull up my underwear but not my jeans and pull her hair up so it won’t get wet. At that point the door opens (we forgot to lock it…. ) and a lady sees me standing there with my pants down around my ankles, E’s shirt is off and I’m standing right up behind her holding her hair. Ackkkkkkk! Child molester in the public bathroom!!!! We were laughing so hard and so loud, it was ridiculous.

I composed myself and exited the loo to explain to the lady what we were doing. Explained that I am indeed the librarian on duty and NOT a pervert. She seemed to think it was funny too. I hope.

classic

Got smoked out last night, as the young ones say, and on my way home while  trying to drive without incurring incarceration, I decided to play a little game of chance to keep me alert. I decided to pull a random CD out of the console and just go with whatever it was. Knowing I only keep crappy CDs in the car, lest they be stolen. I was really hoping to get Dionne Warwick just for the soothe  factor. But the first one I pull out and plug in is some Rap group, a CD that was left at the library a few weeks back.  I don’t know which group it is as the CD is not labeled and I’m not that down with the Rap scene (see? I can talk street my peeps).  I tried to go with it as I was driving along through the hood but then suddenly,  as an old white chick blasting whoever the fuck these rappers were, I was transported back in time to Crayton Junior High,  home of The Crayton Satans…

There I am…. a tall, gawky, white girl with braces and glasses – stringy brown hair down to her waist, walking around with her cassette player (the kind with one speaker, mono) squealing out Sly and the Family Stone’s “Don’t Call Me Nigger, Whitey”.  It was the first year of desegregation in South Carolina. I really believed at the naive age of 12 that this would make me known as a friend to my new classmates. But my childhood was troubled, as we know. Nobody knew what to make of me. Not the black kids and certainly not the white kids. I’m lucky I was punched only once during my entire Junior High and High school experience.

Back in my car, in real time, I decided to ditch the rap; it was not hitting home. I pulled out another random CD…. shoved it in….

And  it was a demo made by  my husband’s band. It was fucking magic. Like the fucking message was coming through….from god straight down to me. Yes! Eureka! These guys are the real deal. Gary has a voice that is incredible. And he writes all the songs and they are fucking amazing. So i decided right then and there that we must get back together.

Still listening to the music, I thought about how  I would love to be with someone I could write songs with, play music with.  Gary never let me into that secret place. I was not friends with his friends. He kept all of that seperate from me. How in the fucking hell could I end up with a musician who wouldn’t play music with me? ugggh…. So, with that realization (still careening down the road) I knew that it would never work and it never did, despite trying for 10 long and painful years. Too bad. I tend to end up with guys who are more like begrudging, resentful brothers rather than lovers.

That was a freaky realization.

I finally made it home,  and as I sat typing away in my THC haze I heard Telemundo blasting somewhere but was not coming from my house nor was it coming from the neighborhood.  It’s in my head.  Ahora!  Vamanos a la isla…… Arrrrrrriba!

I failed to mention that the car I drive is a “dark gold”  Volvo S60.  Sporty.  I always thought it looked a bit pimpish and in fact, nicknamed it the Pimpmobile.  After 6 years of driving it into curbs, buildings, other cars and small airplanes it now has a very different look. The passenger side rear view mirror is smashed out, the gas cap cover has fallen off and just yesterday the driver’s side (electric) window broke in the “down” position.  Today I taped plastic wrap over it with masking tape.  The final touches are in place. I’m going to get me some Lil’ Kim  and hit the road.

jackwild2wb

I saw the movie “Oliver!” 16 times when I was in 6th grade. I was obsessed with Jack Wild, who played The Artful Dodger. I knew every song by heart. I still know most of them and can sing them in character. Nancy, singing “As Long as He Needs Me”, Oliver sweetly singing “Where is Love?” and the Dodger singing “Consider Yourself At Home”…..  Fagan “I’m Reviewing the Situation”…..  I was so obsessed with Jack Wild that my friend Mamie and I would call the studio in LA where he was taping H.R. Puffinstuff, every day , several times a day, asking to speak to him. Mamie had her own phone line so the cost of  long distance from South Carolina to LA was of no consequence in our adolescent Jack Wild addled minds.  Finally, one day, the operator was so sick of us calling, she actually put Jack on the phone to us….. my god… imagine the shrieking screamfest that ensued….   when we were finally able to speak I asked weakly, “is this REALLY Jack Wild?”. He replied in that perfect cockney accent “who would it be if it ‘aint?”… more screaming and shrieking and crying on our end of the line.

He was cordial if confused about who the hell we were. He asked how the weather was in Carolina. I asked if he would come and be in our local Christmas parade. That’s all I remember. But god, the sheer determination of two adolescent girls still amazes me. We did it. We set our minds on talking to him and we did it.

Where is that girl? The girl with such determination? Such resolve. I guess she’s still in here somewhere. Still having various forms of hero worship. Occasionally brushing elbows with someone of some notoriety. I met Sam Shepard in a bar in West Virginia and in trying to act  all nonchalant like I didn’t know who he was I asked him “don’t you work at Jiffy Lube?”.. he was confused, looking a little scared and amused and then was very polite when I told him I was kidding. But he left the bar pretty quickly after that. My attempt at seducing him away from Jessica Lange thwarted.  I wonder still if he remembers that interaction. I can be a real ass at times.  I once took a personality test with one of the many shrinks I’ve had in my lifetime and she told me I tested as the most introverted person she had ever tested in her entire career. Funny eh?

UPDATE: Thank god I’ve aged a little better than old Jack, looks like life wasn’t too good to the child star… rest his soul….

jack-wild

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