- Pizzeria Locale
- Easy and complete resolution of lingering concerns
- The shapes of mouths
- Cold water running over a dry, scratchy throat and being drawn in and then spilling over each and every inch until the feeling of empty, grasping, discomfort, need becomes full, plenty, enough, done.
- Remembering a dream in vivid detail, understanding why it was dreamt, and sinking into the details as if it were a storybook written just for you.
- Kindness of friends and strangers, in being listened to, in extending your empathy, in sitting with the argument without easy or complete resolution.
- Coming to terms – not for a specified period of time – not for forever – just for now. Which is enough
- Overcoming the panic tickle.
- Giving up ghosts.
I am a frustrating menace. I am rudderless. I am fine. I just am tired after a long day waiting for the blood. It began awry when the deadbolt swelled and stuck and stayed gray and disconsolate, and neither treasure nor torment arrived despite looming just overhead. I may have drunk some wine back in the eons of this evening, too long ago to mention now. I am a monkey in a long line of kings. As the man once said who I followed like a prophet. I held his pamphlets, sang in his mass, and left him by the wayside when some other creature bedazzled me and gave me a cheerier way home. But he wasn’t wrong. We’re all monkeys in a long line…
I’m not depressed, I am lucky, I have kindness all around me. I have good things that I love. I am just tired of wearing the long robes, shuffling feet and cards that hide the princess’s delicate, pea-sized wound. Gone green with age. I was not glad of the things that fell out of my mouth, these half-made choices that the whole princess has not yet reviewed. The need to be free just tumbling forth from me and onto the formica countertop, and none of the panel can exactly tell if these are the wishes of the petitioner or the things she must say to get along in the world. They comfort one another by saying it is only the latter, it is only the clever survival tactics of one who has dodged the law for decades. The law of progression, of growth, of a pea, to a vine, to brand new pea.
But still it was said. Maybe I should get this driving thing fixed. Maybe I should fix it now. I went in the far lane today twice in a row like an Evel Fucking Knievel. I was just too bothered and frustrated and thwarted and labored with the energy of carrying all of this crap around to anxiously sneak around the edges, to spin in parking lots, to take the safe, right angles.
Even if the dark had me fighting the Tickle, in the daylight, that stride towards feedom happened. It was done and it can’t be taken back now.