August 22, 2014 § Leave a comment

Tuesday 8/12/14 10am

Robin Williams is dead.

Slept funny or something. Shoulder is sore. Late start-everyone is awake. Little has paint in her hair, needs a wash. Older one has chores to do she isn’t doing so I’ll have to get on her about it. Watched a movie about a writer’s group. None are published then one gets published and the others lose their fucking minds over it. Jealousy. Entitlement. Girl from big bang theory. Girl from meet the fockers. Dude from nip tuck-the dad. Dude from American Pie, and Wilfred-drew. Some other dude. Stupid movie really but accurate. More about claws. What a great movie review. Fingers are stiff. Back is stiff. Neck is stiff. Have coffee and need to roll smokes. Nothing is in my head. Robin Williams is dead. I don’t know why but that fucks me up a little. Reading a book about a doctor’s journey treating a woman with seventeen personalities. Switching time, it’s called.


Still Tuesday-haven’t started writing yet-mailman is terrified of our boxer. To be fair, he has good reason. Cerberus(dog)barks like a lunatic when mailman is near. Mailman is older. I worry about his heart.

Wednesday 8/13/14 3:14am

Never did write yesterday.

Alright-warmup-flow. Good beats got coffee and smokes. Got silence through the house. Dead house. Tune playing: Falling up by New Animal. Ohhhh sorry ohhhhletting know It’s you ya know.

6:35am still Wednesday.

Hello, familiar void. Satisfaction never showed.

Ended up writing, working out a few dents. I feel pretty okay about it, but not really. I fear finishing is not in my future. Doesn’t matter what I do. Have to pee like every ten minutes. Fuck. Tip toes through the cold, dark house. It’s so fucking cold my fingers are hurting. Had to put on socks, sweater. School busses are out. We home school so I don’t have deal with all that shit. Thank God! This morning I started listening to old Alkaline trio. Just had an urge to hear them again. Haven’t listened to them since high school. Used to blare them with the window down when I was twenty. I hear them and I think of those two summers I was doing crank through every weekend and sometimes into the week. My eyes were always burning. I was always depressed. The wind on my face at nine in the morning on my way home to come down alone. I saw them live in O3. Some bar that isn’t a bar anymore. I was pregnant for the first time and I was showing. How funny. I remember being worried someone (Insane alk3 fans) would elbow my in the stomach, but I was up in that shit. I remember Skiba mentioned tipping the bartender right after the person I was there with bought drinks but didn’t tip the bartender.

5:39am Thursday 8/14/14

Someone said something about a worldwide purge. Looked it up and nothing. Then we heard on the news last night, it’s a city purge. Apparently there are flyers all over our city. Supposed to happen tomorrow night from 8pm to 6:30am. The police are aware and ready for it. I am not the sort of person to hear news of this nature and not take it seriously. I feel like I’ll be watching out my window all night and all morning. With the way shit is, you can’t not take these things seriously. Not when you have a family. I think anyone who’s seen this movie has wondered what it would be like if the purge was an actual annual event. Imagine the psychos you’d encounter. We encounter these psychos everyday, but imagine it being no question. A dude with a machete or something looking to scalp you, just because. It doesn’t matter how careful you’ve been. Just wants to scalp you. Or eat you. Or lock you in a room and put your through extreme deprivation then shock you and torture you-because someone told them to, because they believe it will give them some kind of paranormal power, because someone did it to them, just because. These people fucking exist. I could describe the most terrifying thing and chances are it exists in some form. On another note: I am sick of all my music. This happens because I play the shit out of music I like. Can’t find next good batch. It’s cutting into my writing time. Another side note: When I see someone reading or idolizing Bukowski, I think about how he kicked that chic (On camera-he was a violent man off camera as well) he was with for so long-Linda? He was always drinking that cheap wine. Then I think about that short story he wrote about the child Molester, (the fiend, the pervert? Can’t remember now) how he described the arousal of the pervert. I remember slowly reading that one, until finally slamming the book on the toilet seat (I was in the bathtub) and looking at it like the book had betrayed me. Was Bukowski a fucking child molester? What the fuck?! Yes the pervert in the story was caught and arrested, but the story still fucks with me. Fans of that chunk of writers don’t want to believe Bukowski was a child molester. Just a good writer (Good? Really?) Then I think about how he wrote on a typewriter and you have to read that kind of writing differently.

4:23amThursday 8/21/2014

Purge didn’t kill us. We actually stayed with a friend until midnight, keeping up with neighbors and friends who were listening by way of a police scanner app. Dudes downtown with machetes, they said. Groups in black hoodies beating in cars with baseball bats and metal pipes. Gun shots were heard-more than usual. Helicopters were ripping through the sky above swat teams blazing down the back streets. Our kids couldn’t go outside once eight pm hit (because the real psychos apparently wait for a clock to strike) and my oldest, who’s just on the brink of knowing too much, was driving me nuts trying to figure out what all the commotion was about.

One has many options.

Well, sweetie, you know how I’m always telling you to be careful because most people are nuts? All the nuts are acting nuts tonight. We’re just being careful.”

I didn’t say it like that. That would have spawned a slew of more questions. I’m too busy visualizing getting machete’d by demons in black hoodies to answer her without terrifying her. So I just kept telling her she was too young to understand what may have been happening outside. I told her to focus on being with her sister. I told her to go on, when she’d linger in the kitchen in hopes of hearing any news.

She’s only ten, I have to keep telling myself this. She’s just a child. Because I’m tempted, you see, to tell her everything. To make her tough, now. Too tough, perhaps. I fear it will harden her. So many things we’ve been through have already hardened her. I fear she is losing traits such as humility, empathy, compassion.

Recently, we watched, My girl together. I saw this movie when I was nine, in the theatre with dad and my brother. I was sobbing during all of Thomas Jay’s funeral, tears were still coming when the credits rolled. I remember trying to hide them from my dad and brother (They still saw them, called me out.) anyway. I watched it again with my daughter. Last week. I wondered the whole movie if she would cry (My oldest) during Thomas Jay’s funeral. I cried, again. Not as hard this time. I’ve learned to wrangle my sadness.

She didn’t cry. Didn’t even seem upset.

Instead she was wondering why the scene had me all shaken up.

Note to self: Go back and put the bee in. (Oliver’s bee.)

Friday 8/22/2014 5:52am

Somehow I’ve made another friend. A friend of a friend who was around a few times when I reluctantly went to visit. Now she’s calling me, just to see what’s up. Just to talk. Wondering why I don’t come around. I have no time just to sit, and talk. People are always wondering, complaining, Why you so antisocial? Why don’t you ever come around? Even when I come around, it’s not enough. Even if I’m around two or three times a week. That seems like a lot to me. The other day a friend says, you should come hang out here. I said, We do. And I’m thinking, fuck- we were here two days ago! We’re here now! I’ve always had this problem. People fucking cling to me. What am I doing? Listening. Nodding. Responding. This is the only reason I can think of. I intentionally, bring nothing else to the table.

My husband must have started his period because he’s being a real bitch.

I asked my oldest to choose an animal I can make magnets of, to use for organization and planning. Etc. I thought she’d choose a bunny rabbit or something. She chose a goblin shark.


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You are currently reading EARLY MORNING PILES OF VOMIT- 2 at /ambedo/ purging those entities of thought.


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