tired, cold, 🥄

Scrapbooking:

tired but not in a bad way

Ears and Huck both asked, separately, why? What possessed you, really? Because sometimes you just have DO A THING, anything, to stop the nothing-but-shitty cycle. All I know is I COULD so I DID. Beyond that, I don't know why I bought this house because it hasn't happened yet. 

I forgot. We r gonna inherit stuff. I mean, not keepsakes, whatever there is of that belongs to my mother. I mean just cash. And Sis already did allllll the hard stuff so much omg cz I was busy selling my house for mom, as we agreed.  She sold his house and now his car is mine says bro-in-law who will get it deep cleaned and tuned up and my sister is just like get it over get it over get it over get it over, she is not-okay. Figuring out what is left of the $ (after death and funeral? Are u sure??) to her is like part of OVER WITH. Here's your cash, and your Subaru for your gay dogs, DONE! She's soooo out of her mind to have this be over already - she should take more, but she will split it (CLEAN QUICK MATH) to save her nerves. "I tried 3 different ways to donate him but.." Stop, CREMATOR HIM, save yourself!! I keep having to tell her that over and over and over - save yourSELF. 

I am afraid for her hair. 

Tbh, I am not even trying to clean the emotional part of this up anymore, going on nothing but faith that it will heal. This much shakey ouch = def not sociopaths, we (all of us) are nothing but hurting humans. 

When your hair grows back, it's short and in my case curly, so under my long hair are haircoils like pen springs, making the rest of the long parts stick out 🤯. That is going to be lamentable and messy until it isn't. (Metaphor.)

But I can feel too that my mother will see a butterfly or make a dirty joke or both, and there it'll be: how amazing shit is. Life. Isn't it AMAZING, Gin? 

If there is $ left, I am telling nobody, letting nobody's need(s) make a claim on it. I am going to see northern lights at a spa where they put you in healing mud or whatever. 

No. All I do is bend over backwards, unspotted under the weights. 

It's a good thing I believe (teach) that to be human is to be broken (open). You're built for it. If that never happens, you're not lucky, you're a sociopath. I do believe that. So. I just have to get sucker punched to the sternum, a sternum that I've been self-performing cpr on for god knows how long (crick crack) so. 

Words fail me.

I am glad I am not currently furious, which can feel "up" but is not, it's brain self generated alcohol roughly. I mean, sometimes ya gotta go scorched earth, but I try try try to stop waking up holding smoldering guns. That shit will kill ya.

But. This blown wide open thing now 💔, also not a fun part. I don't even know what to call it. I guess that is what my mind is doing mostly, trying to know what this even is.

I know: I feel better outside smoking. So I go outside and smoke. 

Tomorrow, there will be available the drugs of immediate movement, virgos love that, to-do lists. Then retail therapy. But. I think Ima use these drugs sparingly, they're empty calories, and imagine instead mostly empty rooms with art leaning everywhere. I have made up my mind, no television. (Want a television?) 

All the worst things have already happened, how did that quote go? 

I need Sunnie back.

I felt relieved yesterday for my sister and mother. They felt relief for him. My uncle showed up, 87 years old, to tell my sister to go home, he wasn't going to wake up and watching any more of it would only make her sick. From him, she took that order, and like folks tend to, he died when he was alone to do it, and I felt grateful to my uncle. 

When I woke up this morning it finally hit me: he's gonna be dead now forever. 😪

All this time, all this crying, all the begging for hospice, no offense but get him away from the ICU folks cz they do not need or have ❤️space for lost causes, it was for my sister and mother, my worry for them on top of the piles of worry here...that's all I could feel. Worry. Now it's over. And he's just never going to say "fuck a duck" again. 

At around 2 a.m. when he couldn't possibly be awake because he was dead, I ate milk and cookies. I thought the same thing I have for months: I want to stay in this body a while longer, so I shoved milk into it. I would prefer life not to suck so hard, but still, I don't wanna die not cz I am afraid but because I have more shit to do. I want a chicken. 

I don't care what my horoscope is (work harder no doubt), don't care about the moon whatever. (Oh, fuck a duck.) He's just dead and all this crap I've been packing is going to end up being dragged to Goodwill when I stop talking. 

Everything really worth any kind of a damn exists in the "meanwhile". From middle English, "in the interval" (alive briefly).

romeo & juliet - dire straights

Not gonna unblog this either, I don't think. But read it LATER

Breeeeeeeeathing.

I needed Sunnie a lot a lot. Another 2 days with her can turn my spent tide, I think. With the getting women shit done thing, I needed an assist, ESPECIALLY the laughing 😭💙🤣. It'll be all Decided + then quickly executed. (You are getting your things first, we-thinks.)

I 😭 all day, but she was here - I really could be okay even if it's hard - but not alone in the wilderness or wailing at walls, even chickens need a few

Sunshine mentioned in passing that there is a rule of thumb - 30 days sans intimacy after detox and feeling stuff. You gotta be "selfish", says the rule. You should feel you. (We weren't talking about you specifically, but I noted this rule.) Did they tell you that? And what do you think? 

Tbone soundtrack, the LP years. 

I'm keeping the sex chair.

real things - joe h henry 

I am not going to unblog this

I took down a lot of recent posts, many as I went and the rest overnight. There is a little vigil left ...

... but declaring "getting sober mission accomplished" is why I did that.

Because yesterday, as I was crying in the cottage, I also prayed out loud so that everybody could hear me: a quick death, a peaceful death, for my father, before it breaks my sister and by extention my mother. And if I could have that one thing, one peaceful death to be able to honestly report to my mother and no more horror for my sister, I wouldn't ask for anything more this year. Cz that is like asking to win the lottery. Nobody is even ALLOWED TO DIE, let alone in peace without pain, and I know it, and they don't, and I don't want them to know. Even my daughter's troubles with housing, I wouldn't witchpray about it anymore, and said that out loud in front of her. 

I got my prayer. 

So. We are on our own now. With only each other humans, for whatever that is worth. 

Dying is almost like sex, you can do it alone, but that's iffy and not ideal unless you're Patti. And my father would be Patti if he could. But too late for that. I think you have to die young to get that, young and extremely isolated, neither of which look good to me. 

JJ Cale, Clyde on the radio I took to be saying goodbye, or at least trying to say it. 

I have to get chickens because they make me smile. What if you only kept beings incl people around that made you smile?

My father's kidneys are failing. He is refusing dialysis. 

rain and snow - old salt