Saturday, 31 January 2015

I cut myself a little slack this morning and it turned out to be just what I needed.

I finished AHS: Freakshow. It redeemed itself in the final three episodes and Finn Whitrock was amazing, as was Jessica Lange, as always. I look forward to the next one, whatever form it may take and while I hold a tiny thimbleful of disappointment for how unlike my own experiences on the Freakshow it turned out to be, I still found a thread of thrill to hold onto for the moments that turned out to be exactly the same, which were solely the moments when they showed their pain visibly, and for when in spite of said pain, the show must always go on. Maybe I'm blessed that I could be a freak by choice and not by birth or circumstance but it's still part of my life I credit with giving me the ability to see people for who they truly are, even when they attempt to present only what they want you to see.

Thimbleful indeed. That's an incredibly tiny, cheap shard of my takeaway from those years. I can never convey how it felt to be there sufficiently to share much of it with you at all. But that shard. It's something when it glints in the sunlight.


I finally got absorbed into Mr. Mercedes. It isn't a standard Stephen King book, it's as if he mixed it with his hard case crime books. I hoped it would be more horrific than his son's turn with Nosferatu but no, not so far. There is too much thinking. Too much detective. Too much deliberation, not enough shock so far. I'll stick with it, but it's tough going.


A week and a half and six pounds down is the math on this flu for me so far. I have to keep track. I've already had my cliff-baptism from Sam to absolve me from church that isn't even until tomorrow and PJ finally succumbed to this scourge of a flu besides. The good news is we're all just well enough to cook, clean and complain so hopefully next week will be better, faster, healthier and more efficient. No work gets done. No creating takes place. It's a holding-pattern until further notice and it's the most difficult way to live sometimes. Two steps forward, three steps back.


I made tea and pancakes this morning and I thought I was doing really great. I drove Ruth to a coffee shop across town to hang out with her friends. They will walk everywhere and then she will call for a ride home after dinner tonight. It's that weird fifteen-year-old freedom where you have nothing to do and it's the best, isn't it?, or so they say. I don't have much patience for it because I was working at that age. Working hard. It's difficult to minimize my experiences on the road in order to bring them in line with what a 'typical' fifteen year old does now. What the fuck is typical? No one wants to be that way, do they? But then there is Ruth and while she's miles further in her trip to sophistication than I will ever travel, she's sometimes a carbon copy of me and that scares me half to death.

 It scares them more. Thankfully she's taller and more sarcastic and not the least bit fragile at all. I can't wait til she gets a job.


The rest of the day will hopefully bring take out and horror movies. Both incredibly necessary when one is this sick. Both standard operating procedure when Joel wants to have a head to head discussion. Note I didn't say heart to heart because I don't bring mine when I come to discussions with this man. He doesn't deserve to be near it.


Oh and for those of you following the underwear saga, I've sent the velvet sets back with pins in all the places that need to be taken in and have decided to just go commando until they come back again. All the cashmere went too. It's just too big. But there was no way I could put on the old things after spending any length of time in those beautiful pieces. They feel so good. No more mass-produced shit for me, thanks. I'm now an underwear snob.

Well, I will be when I get my stuff back.

The Devil was very proud. I'm not known to do anything the easy way, nor do I seek out any sort of luxury unless coerced slowly into it, like a fearful animal. But this morning between being sick and fed up and foundering for a little moxie from somewhere, anywhere, I just said You know what? Fuck it. I'm worth it. 

Mark this day, then. Because it's finally come.