Secret Pop

May 19, 2003

Scream bloody murder. No one will hear you.

I enjoyed today and hated it. I am overwhelmed by things I can't completely govern. I'm frustrated with destructive habits. I'm fed up with disappointment and unengaged by the promise of being attended to. Simultaneously, I was out in the sun for hours and hours. I bought a painting of a ship. I remembered how things used to be many years ago, and I laughed at those old, old days and knew that I didn't miss them. I wore my Converse high-tops and fretted a little bit about the clown face my feet took on. I passed on lunch but agreed to dinner. My neck needed rubbing. It got some.

I feel like a pinball caught between warring flippers. Every smile is seconds from a frown. Every laugh is inches from a sigh is inches from a groan. If I could just sustain. Anything. Okay. Let me be hopelessly forlorn. I will write songs about suicide and dark remembrances that want for giving up. It made a fortune for Morrissey. Or let me be bubblegum and doughnuts with sprinkles. Colorful and candy-coated with flavor that lasts and lasts. Just let me be something. I can't bear the neverending back and forth. Love. Hate. Anger. Apathy. Bemusement. Boredom. Fear. Folly. It's like a daily multi-vitamin of neuroses that I swallow. I never take it with food, so it upsets my tummy. And I curse my various brain lobes and regions for having the ability to feel so much. I always loved Comfortably Numb.

It's a metaphor again, maybe. I'm always going back and forth. Always being shuttled to and fro. Always bowing to indecision rather than to commitment. I free myself up for the possibility of being tied down, and somehow I manage to exist in both states. How? Why? For how much longer?

This picture will give you no idea what an ordeal I experienced while driving home tonight. But that's because this picture wasn't taken today. We can still pretend I ever want to get back in my car again. I've been fooling myself for years. Truth be told, my drive home tonight nearly did me in. And not just because it took me nearly two hours to travel a handful of miles in a sea of cars that all seemed to be moving faster than me. I listened to music in the car that made me want to die. And I sang along.

Still, this picture leaves no room for argument that I had a cherry of a mouth when the shutter opened and closed. I can concede that, despite my desire to drown in something. I even managed to meet my deadlines. I waited to check the time until I was finished. The tears would certainly have queued up for a gush if it weren't for the relief of being done. I'm done. With many things.

No comments: