I am catching flack on my Facebook page for posting political things.
I am a delightful combination of love, light and ‘oh my god we are all going to die’ right now.
It’s the end of the world as we know it. And I (don’t) feel fine. _REM
I am torn between being sanctuary and speaking my mind, bringing some light into the darkness so I am just doing all the things.
I have the On This Day app telling me that a year ago right around now the Paris attacks happened and I am feeling the same feelings. Unrest, fear, anger, hurt, and this overwhelming responsibility to be a voice of reason, but I have no idea what to do or say. I didn’t know then either.
It’s gone from bad to worse.
Also, that was right around the time I met the psycho fake soldier and that triggered a series of unfortunate events that are still affecting me.
Thanks for the reminder Facebook, could you the fuck not?
It’s out now, might as well deal.
I met psycho boy in November and the Giant in December. I was punch drunk and hand shy from the first and pushed the second away. Fuck, if I am going to lay it all out, my entire dating history dictated I keep everyone at arm’s length, especially the young un’s, but I digress.
I have worked 10 days since May. Stripper work I mean.
And God said, “Let there be lights in the vault of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark sacred times, and days and years, and let them be lights in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth.” And it was so. God made two great lights—the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. God set them in the vault of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the night, and to separate light from darkness. And God saw that it was good. And there was evening, and there was morning—the fourth day.”
Apropos really, my fourth day back at work went about the same.
Two great lights in the darkness marking sacred times.
I think it was a Wednesday. My hair wasn’t washed I was trying to pull off a less than smooth transition from yesterdays winged eye liner to tonight’s smoky eye. I kinda looked like shit, maybe not like shit… but I know I can do better.
Fourth day back and I had already fallen back into old habits, mild political debates with the regulars at the bar while I drank some liquid courage and steadied myself for a stage show and talking to people. I do better at both when slightly inebriated, otherwise I am shy.
Stepped out for a cigarette round about 11pm and my phone made noises. The happy kind that denote a text…had to look twice as to whom it was from.
(This can’t be, he said my name so it isn’t a mistake)
Nothing for 90 seconds…
Couldn’t figure out why now. It’s been months of no contact, which was to be expected. I didn’t really pull any punches after he left in here. He said he stopped reading this, but I wasn’t sure. I was hurt, mad and sad, never a good combo for me. I’d die before I told him I missed him. There was that whole wedding debacle and the debauchery that proceeded it.
Him: Come chat after your cigarette?
Oh that why now.
He was at my work. Fuckery.
Some of my old work habits had died, I had stopped looking for him in every tall guy with a beard and a button up shirt. Stopped glancing in the direction of the chair I found him in way back when.
Rookie mistake. Been making a lot of those lately.
You know that feeling when you are in an elevator and it goes a little below the floor you are supposed to be stopping at so I does that extra little up/down? You, my stomach did that.
Didn’t hurt, just fluttered and flipped a little. Butterflies migrating en masse.
I got about 6 feet away and said loudly “if you leave room for Jesus when you hug me I am gonna kill you.”
He left very little room for anything, not doubt or fear or anger. Just two old friends catching up after an absence and a little post mordem on past events. I forgot about Trump and the world ending. For 2 and a half hours all I did was smile and say ‘are you really here?’ with alarming regularity. We were respectful of our respective relationships with others. Just picked up where we left off or where we started or something, I am not reading too much into it. He tells me not to with alarming regularity.
He also told me not to write about this, but baby I gotta talk about something and besides. I love the fuck outta you, dummy.
I pride myself not on my strong beginnings in these posts, those are hit and miss, but I almost always know how to wrap things up with a neat little bow or a joke or an innuendo…funny enough…
I don’t know how to end this. But I am not reading too much into it.