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Patton Oswald's first wife died of an overdose of painkillers from a hotel room near their home. I recall watching a documentary "we were creative people. I understood completely what it meant to have to isolate yourself and get in the zone to be creative. I get it. I understand."
(and his wife - I am certain - caught the golden state sanctimonious rapist killer - and I loved what she said about her writing "I could have never published while my mother was alive")
I get it.
and another one, fictitious, Hannah from "girls" saying to Adam, when he asked what she was going to do that night, "oh .... and write."
and she loved that video she saw of tom holland and Zendaya and him doing a song by Rhianna and how fucking art. and how fucking yes.
to be creative.
to have someone support it.
it makes me hum.
she loved how he told her that s. king used "shitters" as his word for douches.
she loved so much about him.
and león had me write a mystery novel just because he had the idea and I thought it was fascinating that he didn't think it was inconceivable.
oh well.
soccer plays.
we pretend to unite
knowing that if my daughter was in competition with your daughter, we could fight annihilating wars to prove whom was the victor.
when I went downtown, I almost just un-pulled from the parking space and went back home to be with my favorite person: moi.
but I didn't. I stayed. I drank. I told him I was there.
he still thinks it's all sex for me.
not at all
not at all
it's now in the brain.
do you care what I think?
do you want to know?
then I'd fuck you to mars
but instead, we alleviate loneliness
and I think of you Leon.
I think of your second son - who had $700 boots he bought with his money from being a high school sous chef. I think of him fishing just because he wanted to be alone and he didn't even use bait. I think of you not liking pesto or mint, and I wonder if I'll ever see you again
and if you ever knew what you lost.
wouldn't it be so fun if you came home from whatever you were doing and I was there and we decided to watch something and eat fried fish and tomatoes.
but no.
you had to
say "great! so glad you called me on it, because I'm outski beeotch"
and I get to pretend to like
macon bacon
or not.
I loved you Leon. the editors will hate it because I've repeated myself again, but as we all know, I don't fucking write for editors.
I write because I can't not write.
I just finished a book from the library - I'm so cheap and socialist - about Vivien and Larry and the front foto is my fave - pure fucking joy
and we all know how that ends.
he loved her.
he was kind of gay and super competitive.
he gave up on her.
she died but lived.
the kind of end.
sometimes I scoff at my mother - my parents - at why I am so mad that I am born? even though I know in the millions of years humans could do it, it's only in my mother's generation it was scientifically possible to choose to have a child rather than "oh fuck, I guess we'll see what happens"
and I'm smart
and I was like "you fucking idiots should have never had a child - me. you had no gift to give me. just 'hope it works out' - fuck you and your narcissism - I am not programmed well"
oh well
fuck it.
what choice
thanks?
wah wah wah
the lightning bugs or fireflies if you will - will come out - please god.
the earth still rotates around a sun
the suns still kill each other to fuck a maiden
and god knows
god god god someone knows
I loved you
I brought you into my world to show you I was here
I have been here.
you gave zero shits
you came to my family Christmas baring organic wine and told me you'd explain to me later.
I told you I loved you
you said it wasn't your fault you didn't love me.
and it was done
you never even said 'maybe this..."
it was over
I still sit here
because you were rare. I cry again.
it doesn't matter
wah wah
no one gives a fuck
they all thought it was just some stupid thing.
but fuck
the fireflies
the knives
the two hours
the brain
I guess I was wrong.
again
and it hurts so much
and no one
understands.
the usual
a firefly - or lightning bug - came out of the grass. they say they'll be extinct in a decade.
she knew she had to cut the grass tomorrow morning or the next day at the latest.
fuck everything.
can't everything live?
she recalled Florida. when he had gotten all that money and was so giddy with it telling her he'd buy her whatever she wanted in the clearwater cvs.
he had come there to refill his zynz.
she got a t-shirt and some toothpaste.
she still has the t-shirt.
I do.
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