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steel cut oatmeal is the bomb.
my divorce gift to myself rice cooker makes it so well.
I'm to go to my sister's today to the engagement party.
it's a four hour drive, so I'll be thinking.
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it's one day - the easiest kinds of trips.
in and out.
and she thought of how rude she had been - how cruel.
she fixated on an object then devoured it then discarded it.
if that's not vampiric what would be.
she had never heard a Grimes song and had actually thought it was spelled with a z at the end - yet it was nice to get a new catchy tune in her head to replace the haunted 'kids' song. I believe the new one was called "oblivion".
"I name thee oblivion"
She went on a rabbit hop and landed on the scene of the event.
2007 in July when she returned
to reinvent.
that drive had been harrowing from LA.
so much of it.
she must have either been crazy from it or before it, yet by the time she arrived in ILM, she was well mad.
again.
she was aided by a funny gal who was slightly too poor to be a proper cocaine addict.
who was she to talk?
she was coming in to this with trust in girl power. it was supposed to be a combined vacation with people she'd met on the newly-interesting - replacing her beloved our space with the new book of faces. it still annoyed her that we both forget we are also animals and that the book of faces was started as a way to put the femmes in their spot.
the Barbary coast would be a hard one for her to exorcize the demons out of, but it shouldn't be. it was where she hung out a lot when she was growing in prowess - looking back now, she wondered if she was beautiful to them.
does it matter really? does art matter?
she existed there, but it was akin to the ruby room - weird stuff. but it was her first stop upon re-entry into the berg. she flirted with a minor rock star. it was 7/7/07 -she had timed it that way like a sucker. this end of her marriage had to matter - it had to have been worth it. she was throwing every grenade at the chip that had -
first, it had been "if I feel this for another person, I don't think I should be married - I want to tell my mate everything, and now I have the first worm."
the other had been "he doesn't really even love me - we're brother and sister."
another had been "girl, you mofo cray cray - let that boy get away way."
nonetheless, she was drinking a miller high life in Wilmington's original dive bar trying to weave some meaning from the embers of nothing. she chose to believe she was some cool muse manic pixie dream girl who was going to write a screenplay based on an idea she had had for years and crystal bonds and the new order song 'crystal'.
of course it was whack.
It was the perfect town for that sort of nervous breakdown.
she loved that the house was currently warm.
and she could have weathered it. she could have been discreet. she could have put it back in the closet right? it was weird - she was so stupid and naive that she thought there was some purity to love - that having a secret like that would - well, it was dead the marriage from the moment she bit the wormy apple.
she even recalls again the audacity that she had courage by being the first to kiss - projecting a lot on the notion that who would want to ruin such an iconic marriage - who would dare be the wedge? god, she was a cruel wanker bitch. it's possible she was having a mental stroke. the hard thing had been to imagine leaving Wilmington. she knew they had to do it, but for some reason... she blocks out all that time. she probably was mad. people sometimes tell her all the time things she did or said and she herself recalls several instances that she verily wishes to stuff down. she had certainly let her hair down there and knew the back alley ways. chandler's wharf used to be a particular haunted fave.
so, she was there in 2007 standing on her wooden leg and borrowed glass eye casting about from a divorce in Venice, California. she had been to therapy. the theme had always been to find the fucking voice, so she tried fucking.
it's so ridiculously stupid to even imagine the solution to a nervous breakdown crisis in life would be to bacchanalia with males, yet she flirted. she hung out. she cast her net. who was going to be the one to make this all make sense because she was mofo lost.
mojo lost.
the comedienne came by one night to her borrowed couch "I've found him, talked to him, and he loves you."
"who"
and that was weird because she had broken the entire world universe all of it to ship with this dude and dud nada fizzle out... and now to hear he loves you. well, wouldn't that have been a treat.
what's done was done though, and it was a great conversation, but hardly enough to throw a marriage away for. dangle that metaphor hard.
and of course she meets with him.
no bedsheet on the bed.
the room is trashed and trash filled.
hippie that she was when she just couldn't make love to him - couldn't bring back up that "GREAT LOVE" she swore to Allah she had - and she said to him... "I can't be with you. you can't love me. you don't even love yourself."
it sounds like idealistic rubbish, and that was pretty clearly her world at the time. She had never hunted before with permission from a therapist "narcissi, you're allowed to feel lust. you're even allowed to act on it."
and there is definitely turn on aspects to the dance. for sure.
mostly, it feels now like it was butterfly pinning.
and it was only after the project was complete and hung on the wall that she gave him a call on the way out. if she had been honest, it would have been:
"I panned for gold and got nothing and am considering your offer of fool's gold rather than return to my void with not a penny."
he said what was appropriate to me "no".
and then it's been cults and pinball ever since.
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