Monday, October 12, 2009

It's been a very strange day.

Actually it's been a very strange three or four days and I don't quite know where it all went off the rails and I am here in the dark typing, editing, typing and maybe at some point it will all make more sense than it does now.

A friend from high school of mine has lost her mum, who had been friends with my own mum. We spent an hour at the end of the workday talking. We haven't talked in years. She is just as effervescent and clever as she ever was, but how one can get through such an event and the aftermath with such style and grace is impressive.

Maybe from this blog you have gathered that I am not naturally nice, kind, gracious or even honest. It just has not amused me to be so. Ever. Where this crap material came from no one knows. Certainly not from Mum.

If I don't have to try at something, if a talent or inclination occurs naturally I haven't valued it, something like the concept that people have no value for things that are given freely. Every reversal of this is an effort, but most times it tends to be worth it.

I am often angry that the materials in my head are so obviously busted second-rate junk. Laura deserved a better friend than I was. You deserve a better writer than I am. Steven deserves a funnier more thoughtful partner. Etc. (Although the cat seems quite satisfied with the current state of things.)

Even with all this medication to prevent the lemming-like tendencies, it's still fucking work to keep it together, much less to excel.

Samuel L. Jackson's final speech at the end of Pulp fiction where Jules explains his interpretation of Ezekiel 25:17 has been clicking around in my head annoyingly. The part where Jules declares that he is making an effort to go against his first instinct was such an excellent way to end the movie. Jerri Curl aside, both inspiring and a little frightening.

How long does it take to unscramble your own motto and lay your finger on the pulse of why it has stuck with you? No, it's not Ezekiel but from The Winter's Tale (act 4 sc. 4): Though I am not naturally honest, I am sometimes so by chance.

If nothing else the move back to California has shaken the moorings of my concept of family and support. I want to be more like my mum. I want to want to help even if my first inclination is to take a long bath then a nap. I want to bring the casserole or scrub someone else's floor in that moment when nothing else can be done. The hard things need to get done With the way life typically goes, I am sure to get some practice. If I have to be retro to re-establish the custom of the hot dish, I better damn well get to it. California is out of practice and so am I.

I really have to put effort into doing an impression of a better person, which is one of the big reasons for remaining childless. At least the role model of Good Person has been provided for source material until the motions feel less awkward and unreal. Thanks, Ma.

This blog has become such an exercise in honesty that there is nothing left to do but thank you. Thank you, Dear Reader.

I. I. I. Fuck. Kindly come by and slap me in the head.

For those who like the last video, here's one I like even more as it has an excellent use of muppet. Enjoy, Darlings.

Meanwhile: the latest fascination is the Antique Pattern Library.
And I loooove this quilt.

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