Friday, November 23, 2007

all the butt ends of my days and ways

Ten points for anybody who can tell me where that comes from, that title. Anybody?

Seemed a fitting title for what can only be yet another blog about my day, that ever-revolving state of being, that merry-go-round that never ends. Each time you put one to rest, up rises another. Day after day after day. All the same, really. I wake up in the same bed, make the same coffee, sit in front of the same computer, go to the same job, ride the same buses, come back to the same house, same computer, same bed. Start all over again.

I forgot to take my meds today. Also maybe yesterday, I'm not sure. A white pill that gives me an exaggerated sense of nearly violent happiness. It's kind of nice, really. But it makes me into someone slightly different than the someone I normally am. Which, I guess, is mostly ok.

I saw a Law and Order one time with a woman who was supposed to be mentally ill. I forget, I think she had multiple personality disorder. And there was the one personality that was supposed to be "really her" and the other personality that was supposed to be the pathological version of her. The court was trying to make her take meds so she would stay the one who was "really her," but the pathological version ended up winning and taking over. It was like an alien had come down and taken over some innocent woman's body and then been allowed to keep it. Where did the "really her" version go? Where does my "really me" version go? And is there such a thing?

Last night, after sleeping most of the day and then getting up and making spaghetti, I went to my favorite bar and drank a lot of beer and played pin-ball and watched tv. I also read the local rags and you'll never guess what I saw. I saw a review of a new book of short stories by my biggest writer-crush Lucy Corin. You may remember my recent reminescence about Lucy in a blog post titled "this is why i can't write." There I was, waxing nostalgic about Lucy, and she had just put out a book and someone at the Mercury was probably reading and reviewing it just as I was writing that post. When I saw her name on the page (as fuzzy as my mind must have been by then) -- well, it was pretty moving. It was like I'd just seen my best friend win an Oscar or something. I grinned a face-splitting grin and felt a little foolish and then I placed my hand over the picture of the book as if to touch Lucy through the blurry newsprint. Silly.

So here I am again, in my house on my computer in my blue chair with my feet propped up on my desk. I worked today. I came home and made supper. I watched a movie that I picked up at the video store on my way home: Breach. The one about the spy. And I'm a little lonely, I have nobody to hang out with for a change. Just enjoying the pleasure of my own company and trying not to ruminate too much about anything... Tomorrow I'll go to Powell's and buy Lucy's book and probably read it all before the end of the night. If I'm lucky, I'll go out dancing.


Blogger Joolie B said...

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.

Now I need to figure out how to spend my 10 points. Maybe I'll just hang on to them for now.

1:15 PM  
Blogger reasonably prudent poet said...

oh joolie, i knew it would be you! i mean, it's only the most anthologized poem in the english language, but whatever. that doesn't mean people have actually read it.

and you're wise to hang onto your points. you really can't get anything good until you get, like, fifty. at least.

6:03 PM  

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