I can't say I've had great fun galavanting around like a half-wit recently. My wife brought me up a tall glass of vodka and some Tylenol earlier--I didn't even know we had Vodka in the house. She's not alarmed, but just concerned about me. I am sickened by what's happening to me, and the people who seem to think they know all about what my intentions are. I've never been so liberated, untethered, unattached. At the same time, though, the freedom I have to enjoin the personalities of the world doesn't come without its pain.
For example, the other night I was at a downtown strip club and acted out like a lunatic. Barfights, private dances (not as fun as I imagined), outlandish behavior and the like. But my new pals loved it, and I left feeling as if I would let them down if I didn't return the next evening with the same gusto. I didn't have it the next night. Or the next. What happens to me when I --
Ok, I'm back. I had to excuse myself there for a moment. Sometimes it's all too easy to let the words flow. Words are like children if you don't harness, control, and discipline them. Time to get dressed and ready for the evening. Heels, wig, some shaving, and I'm ready for the sins of the night.
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Words are like children huh? You mean exasperating to the max? Worthy of putting your fingers around and squeezing. Releasing and then standing back to admire the livid throttle marks on those lousy fink words? Trying to knock em into shape. Make em do the things you expect em to do. See if they still lie to you after that. Cos words see, words are slippery as hell. They get away from ya. Ingrates, just like kids weening themselves away from home. Punk assed. Just like the moment the mewling brat arrives in the world covered in blood, YOUR blood and donated without permission, well from then on in the kid's figuring how to put distance between you and it. Same thing words. Once they left the birth canal of your bloodied mouth, they're out there. Snitching on you, showing you up. There for all to see. Can't take 'em back and besides they don' wanna come back. That what you mean? That what you gettin' at, cos I can relate.
ReplyDeleteSam, I'm in town. Your mission commander got in touch with me about some concerns he had with your last flight.
ReplyDeleteSome things you have said, and I'm not sure who commented previously, but I suggest you heed the warnings about what you write on this public forum.
People are watching.
Lucy