I hate everything tonight. I hate the world, I hate my friends. I hate myself. And all I can do now is drink more whiskey because I am out of drugs but for some crumbly blue pills that may have been prescribed for someone's pet. The night will be hell.
All my friends are having fun. My Yosemite friend just bought about $150,000 worth of pick up truck and travel trailer. Maybe more. Another friend writes from France, from Germany. My travel buddy just flew to Atlanta to see a Picasso/Calder exhibit. Some have been touring the homelands. Others are camping or frolicking at the seashore.
They all say, "Don't be a pussy. . . get out and go."
No one understands. Nope.
"You are lucky to have such a son." That is what my mother's friends tell her. But I don't think she feels lucky. There is no indication from her of that. What the fuck else would I be doing?
I tell no one of my own debilitating ailments.
My entire being is in guilty rebellion.
Those photos I looked at . . . the ones of Ili and me. . . they disgust me. I am hideous.
I am cursed.
* * *
That is what I desperately wrote last night before bed. Not much has changed since then. I get up, my mother gets up. She shuffles and sighs and moans and bangs pill bottles, water glasses, and coffee cups against counter tops and tables. The television comes on. The hideous intonations of commercial t.v.
It is not my mother. It is the world. Really. Try this.
This is the soundtrack of contemporary life. What sort of people listen to this? I can't go to Walgreens any longer. They have taken to blasting inane music to make the shopping experience more miserable.
I'm tired of my coffee maker. The coffee goes cold much quicker now. Impossible, I know. There is something wrong with me. But I want hotter coffee.
I have no joy. No happiness.
I try to persevere.
I cannot endure.
I'm sorry you are not doing well. I can relate to your experience with your mother as I have a close friend in a similar situation. Worse. She has a 94 year old mother with dementia. She and her sister are trying to prevent institutionalization. They take turns doing 12-hour shifts. This has been going on for the six or so years I have known her. There is much more to it that I won't get into.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your writing here. This bears repeating from time to time. Reading here is a regular part of my day. You are a part of my sanity network. Reading in general is one of the things that keeps me going, aside from art it goes without saying. I just finished "The Alphabet Versus the Goddess" and learned some amazing things about our history never adequately covered in school. For example, did you know that the witchcraft persecutions lasted for a period over 300 years? Now I'm re-reading Chellis Glendinning, a friend of Jerry Mander, my anti-television hero.
P.S. For hotter coffee, nothing can beat the camping experience. Boiling water over an open wood fire and drinking out of an enamelled tin cup!
ReplyDeleteI whine too much, but you know what they say. . . it's my party and I'll whine if I want to :)
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