So, it’s tomorrow. But this counts for today. I didn’t fall into a hole. We just had a long full-day event and it’s absorbed me and spat me out and othing is working precisely teh way I want it to, so if yesterday was better, as far as how I want these posts to go, today is worse. But nothing is bad. I am home. I am home and in a dress. I don’t know how to come up with the words you need from me.
Selfie-ing. Trying to like myself in different filters. I have drunk Lizzie Bennet hair coils. Trying Minneland, but the light was already way too red. The shadow cuts across me like a knife or a beard. It isn’t ideal. I am feeling things, world, I am feeling things unfairly and I would like to go to bed, but no, duty. The duty of the page, the weight of the word, the ask of the asinine. I am here, obliged or otherwise.
It is becoming apparent that I find myself completely unable to do this. My brain is fried after chasing after names of people I never met, people I worry are judging us and everything we did, and I worry that somebody is saying something I don’t want them to say. I am sitting here and it’s almost one a.m. and I am worrying about what other people are worrying about out there in the universe and it is driving me to distraction. Unsettled, uneasy, and it’s not just the caffeine I am making the genius decision to lap up at this bright instance in my life. I think that if it will be possible at all, this post and all of its contents will have to come out in very structures, stupid bulleted form. Short, studded burst.
Tonight, friends who said they would help came and helped and didn’t hate me for it. I had others who were bemused by what I asked, but went ahead and helped and it worked out anyway. I have ideas about how I would do things differently next year. There are other, less important worries that cropped up. I got grouched at by someone unfairly. I didn’t eat. I spent way too long in line at Taco Bell, like a half an hour sitting in the drive-through, trapped and taking selfies and watching internet boys on the phone. I should be in bed, my feet throbbing away like a throbbing thing (I have sat here for three minutes attempting to come up with some sort of metaphorical language surrounding throbbing and to no avail) and instead I am contemplating how to describe my suffering rather than just alleviating it.
Alleviate, there’s a word.
A day of silence is not going to be enough. It’s not going to get me where I want to be, but it is officially all I have.
Enough! End the toil and the unbearable moaning. Gather up ye petticoats, ye mighty twerp, and find those soft, bamboo sheets to die beneath.