Braindump # 1: She Has CRS Disease
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I tried to see if I should celebrate the randomness of the Internet by posting a link to some tumblr that I haven't updated recently. Or maybe I would just go look at all the old stuff, distracting myself from the task at hand. I remembered that project I tried with a friend that never went anywhere. I'd like to look at that project. The three or so photos we posted before we couldn't be bothered. That friend wrote me just the other day. She asked if we were still friends. It made me sad. It makes me sad now that I can't remember my password. But then I remembered that I'm supposed to hate tumblr now. Does it have something to do with porn? I wouldn't know. I never touched the stuff.
I think we should hate tumblr because they forgot a vowel. So, now I'm pinundated and they might need to pintubate unless I find a way to make a clay bell. No, I will not make a clay bell. I will finish writing this page I couldn't even bother to title because I am writing while staring at a blinding screen that reminds me of my own mortality with every keystroke.
I didn't even see a bell, I saw a bird house that suggested a bell. It's enough. Here, have a look at my Pinterest. Maybe you will watch a three-minute video of a person spreading paint on a canvas with a palette knife. I did not pin that video to any of my terribly organized boards, but I think you can manage to find something you will enjoy. Get pinspired to waste another hour of your precious time thinking about things you don't have and won't do. If you do think about buying those vegan shoes, order a size up. And if you happen to wear a size 6 1/2, drop me a line, I have some cute shoes you might like that pinch the hell out of my toes. And I just tried another password combo. Nothing.
Words are coming to me. Tenacity of Kudzu, Pratfall, pang, fionaspry. So many guises and acronyms and feelings that somehow once seemed important were deleted from this place long ago, and there are those other things that are still out there, passwords forgotten, never to be retrieved, except by some an uncharacteristically altruistic hacker on a mission to reunite us with our former selves. Or, I can just reset. Becky, if you're out there, please remember we will always be friends. Until they steal my password and send an email to you telling you we're through.
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Braindump #2: People Die and It Never Gets Less Sad
Will I regret not dating my writing? Sure. I regret everything. This will be no different. I smell cigarette smoke. I think it's in my imagination, and imagination is enough to spark memories of those good old days when I'd wake up half-sick every morning, but I was invincible and all the people I cared about kept on living. Now, it seems I hear of someone dying every day, and the forms they take never fail to surprise. This week, it's a three-year-old, stolen from slumber.
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There is no rhyme or reason in this world. I discovered that a long time ago. Can't we all just agree to make sense for a day?
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Braindump #3: Undigested Pain
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That thing I ate is repeating on me, so I'll have another. And another. And maybe two more after that. The kitchen floor looks real nice. I think I'll curl up on it. Right on top of these lovely shards of broken plate. I've perfectly matched the shape of my heart, and I will rest in peace.
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Braindump # 4: On Average
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"Why don't I have a special thing that people talk about? Reggie draws well, Tanya is so creative. I want a thing." Luckily, I did not have to field this particular question that hits way too close to the bone, but I did have to take an evening to reflect upon it.
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And. I will let you reflect upon it, too. Will be back later with more on the subject...Drop me a line if you want to be a part of this essay.
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