Internet Dust


You can write this pretty darn quick.  You can write this without giving much of a damn.

Life, in its circular patterns, is bringing me down, man.  It is bringing me right down in some ways, but in others, it’s like this drawer I can close in a way I never could before.  I could close it and not think about it.  I don’t know if that’s good or not, but it is what is happening and sometimes I like this to be a record of the truth.

Summer is bursting through spring and I can see the sun start to redden my arms as I drive home, stressed and sad and mostly, impotent in the face of this impotent situation.  Multiple limp dick situations.  All you can do, I find and think, is to mind what little is moveable.  Like feasts and furniture.  I am here at my parents house as my bed is half-undone and everything else is elevated from the floor.  Lots of decisions, lifting, moving, and I think I feel a bit sore now after three or four hours of getting it 95% acceptable to have some carpet guys come in and get rid of the old, depressing grayish mess and get something fresh and nice in there again.  It’s done and I suppose it doesn’t matter what I think about it at all.

It was decided quickly, the animals are here, I can be fairly mobile with my computer and an overnight bag.  So I am here, learning about Bill Paxton’s heritage and lineage, thinking about everything and nothing.  Wondering about progress.  Driving happened without real event, hiccups at the intersections where the feelings of panic build and bubble, turns where I expect to wig, I wig, but lightly.  I push through, but I don’t fight it.  I  don’t correct it.  I don’t say this is not the way it’s going to be, that we’re moving towards sanity and self-reliance and being free on the roads.  I’m not listening to the self-hypnosis tapes.  I’m not doing what I could do to build on this.

The therapist did say that hoping all of this would just happen on its own, organically, probably wasn’t very realistic.  It’s not.  It’s not very realistic, but still I hope.

Now that I’m here, nearly done with this typing and getting ready to go upstairs to my old, equally empty bedroom, I’m just…I had this vision for today’s post and the throbbing in my legs is just making me want to get this done and that’s not…this does not showcase my skills.  I want to showcase my skills.

There’s a Love it or List It episode that uses both of our names.  It’s been listed, sold, transferred ownership.  I just find it interesting, the names against one another.  Playing as though it’s a natural pairing and not something concocted in my imagination.  Still, it’s a pair of blurry, annoying (which, how?) Canadians and it’s not us.  It’s not us at all.  Just words.  Ain’t no us but internet dust.



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