innocuos eggnogg

Bless me father for I have sinned. It's been 5 weeks since my last confession.

Yeah, it was a lame attempt at dark humor at that.

I am drinking eggnog. From a carton, mind you. I am not being "Martha" at 9:30 on a Friday evening. The last few days, maybe a week, I've thought of writing here. (Maybe even writing in general, but that's another post...) I always manage to channel those thoughts somewhere more constructive or productive. I call a friend, pick up a book, look up a good recipe for dinner... and "poof" it's gone. Shoved back into a corner of my soul.

I think the good news is I am happy. Happier? Focused? Better adjusted? But dammit, I have the right to let emo-Sabine out to rant if she wants to. She is a bit pissy because despite all her personal exploration, guilt over her sins, and putting her energy toward the future and her real loved ones, her husband doesn't think their marriage is any better than it was three years ago. And while all her therapy has taught her she has no control over his feelings and this is his problem, not hers, she can't help but be all, what the fuck?????

And when he starts saying things like therapy was a waste of time, and that that the reason he has these so-called diagnosis "black marks" on his medical record, i.e. "depression" is because of my antics... well, it's hard to take a deep breath and understand that it isn't your fault, and he's being an unenlightened ass, who can't accept that being abused as a child can cause you to be a fucked up adult and maybe that's why you and your wife had issues in the first place.

But I digress. And suck it up. And he kinda sorta quasi acknowledges he was an asshole without actually saying "I'm sorry"... [air quote]Whatever[/airquote]

So the "throw my past indiscretions in my face" anger episode came about 6 months after the last instead of three, so maybe we are making progress. Wake me in seven years when my ovaries shrink and vagina starts to dry up and tell me how it works out.

Enough about him. I'm here to visit you. Which is pretty sad really, because you don't even know who I am anymore probably. Which of course for you is a good thing, and I hope to all hell you have focused your energy on your wife and haven't been spreading your charm all over the fucking internet.

I am going to watch the movie tomorrow. I have the house to myself. I really shouldn't, only because there is a part of me that will look for an Easter egg meant just for me. But I have set myself up to be disappointed. I know even if there is something there, it will be so vague that I will still question whether or not I am seeing what is not there. If that makes any sense.

My daughter has been studying poetry, in 6th grade no less! Her teacher has her then modeling their own poem in the style of what they read. She has been reading Edna St.Vincent Millay, and William Carlos Williams, and her poems---no surprise are wonderful.

There is a song out right now, that makes me think of you. The lyrics just have this passionate emo-intenisty-angst that I recall being part of you and the songs you used to cite. I almost hesitate to post lyrics because then people search them and hit my blog and I hate when random strangers find my blog over song lyrics. It's the Airborne Toxic Event's "Somehwere Around Midnight".

And it starts...
Sometime around midnight
Or at least that's when
You lose yourself
For a minute or two

As you stand...
Under the barlights
And the band plays some song
About forgetting yourself for a while
And the piano's this melancholy soundcheck
To her smile
And that white dress she's wearing
You haven't seen her
For a while

But you know...
That she's watching
She's laughing, she's turning
She's holding her tonic like a crux
The room suddenly spinning
She walks up and asks how you are
So you can smell her perfume
You can see her lying naked in your arms

And so there's a change...
In your emotions
And all of these memories come rushing
Like feral waves to your mind
Of the curl of your bodies
Like two perfect circles entwined
And you feel hopeless, and homeless
And lost in the haze
Of the wine

And she leaves...
With someone you don't know
But she makes sure you saw her
She looks right at you and bolts
As she walks out the door
Your blood boiling
Your stomach in ropes
And when your friends say what is it
You look like you've seen a ghost

And you walk...
Under the streetlights
And you're too drunk to notice
That everyone is staring at you
And you so care what you look like
The world is falling
Around you

You just have to see her
You just have to see her
You just have to see her
You just have to see her
You just have to see her

And you know that she'll break you
In two

Music is so good like that. Letting you emote. And drift. And laugh. And scoff. And scorn.