I've been fighting TJ on watching this film...but he was right.  My inner child looks like a middle aged man in a thrift store shirt who wants to shoot people, starting with his neighbors...


Ooo about 3 minutes in, building to the look on his face at around 3:50, yup that's me alright :/

bonus track (yes that's an exploding baby fantasy): http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xti5z5_i-hate-my-neighbors_shortfilms


bonus bonus track, great song

"What is the fastest growing hideyourawfulneighbors thing a person can plant along a fenceline, I wonder, preferably messy....hmmmm...crab trees? It occurs to me that someone got rich marketing those conifer row things as basically "your neighbors are assholes" trees, and that THAT was a good use of rage, because Goddess knows the world is short on green-space and very long on assholes. That’s my prayer for today: Please, let my rage transmute into something useful and life affirming."

That was my facebook status this morning.  And it's a baldfaced lie.  I don't want to be life affirming in the least.  What is true is that I walk out into my front yard, walk to the property line, and look up into their 75+ year old Silver Maple, and stand and hold my hand up to slice the air above my head, a good hundred feet up, straight up, a wall of death that is legally my right.  I can feel that fucking bitch watching me out the window, sweating it.  I nurse the ball of rage inside me, so DENSE after that hard winter of grief, and I think at her and at that tree "die" with all my hurt little might.

I turn and stare at their window, behind which I know sits MilknCumshot (Cal's new name for her) and the hamster, "Queenie" in her cage near the ledge.  Yesterday, I taught the fosterkid yoga again.  I wouldn't say it was a respite from my rage, it was more like a shifting of it into another color range for an hour.  I remember my hamster, "Hammie", which I had as solace through 5 long shitty childhood years.  I remember the foster kid who lived behind us whom my sister let hold my hamster one day and she threw it hardcore at the ceiling and watched it dropped.  I remember screaming.  I remember very vividly the sight of Hammie, spine snapped, dragging himself forward with this front paws (before my mother put him in the freezer for the mercy killing).  I think about those little faces yesterday, so serious and devoid of credulity, as they put their hands in prayer at the end of class and we bow to each other, "Namaste." 

I stare at my neighbor's window.  I think, "die".

Yesterday my neighbor chopped by big silver maple almost in half.  I'd post a pic, but I left the house and haven't been back in the light, in an effort to quell my rage (to no avail).  They hired a crew with a cherry picker to hang over my property and cut all the branches that grew long enough to reach their yard.  It was illegal as well as awful, but suing won't bring it back.  It reminded me of the time Lamb's landlord cut the pussy willow half to death.  Myself, I'm not going to try to "understand from their point of view", propellors in their pool and whatever.  I wish I could, for MY sake, for what is left of my equalibrium and ability to sleep whatsoever (not much is left of those in my life these days), I wish I could stop hitting their trees (much bigger than my own, insult to injury) with lightening and them with cancer of every kind. I can stop short of imaginging terrible things happening to their children, again thank goodess for MY sake, but that's as far as my equanimity goes (and barely).  Otherwise, it's this and this and ... a pint of urine and hours of sleeplessly wishing them in pain, basically.

I try not to.  But I do.  I hate people. 

after attempting to spend myself down by digging up half my back yard down 3-4 ft ("I just can't kill your libido, no matter what I do...or are you unhappy...?"), I taught yoga today to a room full of little foster kids. I left there thinking 1. I want to teach kiddie yoga and 2. why/how are those kids labeled "extremely emotionall disturbed"?? most of them were about as big as a minute, first of all, and they all were...they were KIDS.  of course they were rolling on the rolling chairs, duh if you don't want them to roll don't give them chairs with wheels! jeezus. The Girl says this is why I should do foster care, because what looks like insanity to most people looks well within the range of standard pain in the ass to me mostly.