It was supposed to be a moment of high regard. A brightness that would leave you speechless, a sight that would render you blind. A force that would be remembered for all eternity and eventually a legend.
Instead it's going to be a quiet, miserable non-event. A painful misery no one will ever see. It will be over before anyone has time to say Is anyone there? before they move on to the next leaf, reading the stories with their rapid-fire schizophrenic attention spans, most likely while talking on the phone and perhaps eating something. In a hurry. Distracted. Busy.
Dumb luck is a gift some would pay for and yet it's never available when one goes shopping. Relax is a state we are not worthy enough to consider. Try to read too much into anything and I will horrify you with my efforts to keep you the hell away. I will be behind it in the dark with my apron gathered up tightly, picking up the leaves and stacking them alphabetically in one hand while I wipe away tears with the other.
It was supposed to be instant. Like a cake mix. Like a flash from a bulb.
Ben and I have been very busy rescuing ourselves (long stories, all of them) from all of the hazards and pitfalls lately, left to defend ourselves from life like teenagers the first week out of the nest. I went from having to be in charge twenty-four hours a day to not having enough resolve left to deal with fuck-all and so I turned around and upended the load into his lap and he picked it up and dealt with it and things are better now.
Maybe it's him after all. Ben and daylight and warmth and a whole new jar begun of sea glass just from two short sunset walks on the beach and plans to spend time and have fun and it would be great if Bonham would stop click-clacking all around at night, tap dancing into the bedroom and chasing the cat out, standing up on my side of the bed wanting to cuddle or maybe take a walk outside at some ruthless hour. Argh. The furry baby who doesn't sleep through the night. I really really need sleep. I need a vacation. I need time to get used to this...Pacific Northbest.
Anyway, Lochlan has cobbled my machine together long enough to say hello to you and I am the stubbornnest little thing you will ever meet because I'm not spending money on another goddamned laptop in this lifetime unless it's made of pipe dreams and free-range cheese so take what you can get and know if I must I'll send word via BlackBerry which is the modern day method of princess telegram anyhow. Ask anyone. I've been running a mobile office for weeks with it already and at night I park it in a cold glass of water because it's usually smoking by the time I go to bed.
Wait. Don't take that literally. BlackBerries don't like water. They do like being used and used well. I just wish maybe the screen were a tiny bit bigger and then I could chuck the damn computer right out the window. I might anyway.
PS. I saw a Nissan Pao today and I want one! One painted in shades of lime and tangerine, please, with a stainless steel roof rack for my snowboard. I told Satan (oh, he of the 350Z) that he would soon be outclassed and he laughed and laughed and then forbade me to buy one.
You know what that will bring. Nothing but misery for him.