June 30th, 2003

rubbah and horns


Not smoking. I'm finding it difficult to breathe and to think. A demon in my head suggests that smoking will relieve that feeling, and while he's probably right, I'm not buying his short-term solution to his self-perpetuating problem. Never again. Not interested. Go away. Peddle your illusion elsewhere.

I don't know if it's because I took the patch off too early, or if it's just part of the process, but for all my exhaustion, I didn't sleep at all last night.

I lay in bed crying about the play for several hours. Why? No clue. Last night I hated my characters, I hated the direction (or lack of it), I hated the rehearsal process, and I hated the play in general. Which is weird, because I look forward to rehearsals an awful lot, consider the participants part of my extended family, love the Bard, and know that the reason I'm not given a whole lotta direction is not because I suck. But there it is.

For lack of any better way to describe it, I'd felt like I brought a banquet to the table, and was leaving with crumbs. It's not the case, and it doesn't make any sense. I know it. I knew it. And yet I couldn't stop thinking it.

I finally fell asleep around 4a. An hour later, I was awoken by the most beautiful lightning and thunderstorm I've ever seen. There were several bright flashes of light every second-- so bright I couldn't look out the window, and my room was completely lit-- and the thunder shook the house. Just amazing.

Michele woke up, too, wondering where Max was. I had let him in a few hours earlier when I was haunting the house in my sleeplessness, but she didn't know, and thought he was still outside. She called for him outside, then went down to the root cellar to see if he was there (there's cat-door access to the root cellar). When she came back up, she was surprised to find him sitting on the steps. Then she came upstairs to find me impressively backlit by lightning in a doorway. Poor Michele!

Smoking helps perpetuate the illusion that I have control. Quitting destroys the illusion while creating the reality. And yet, I feel so very out of control.

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Today I would like nothing better than to leave this office and go to a river somewhere, and stand in that river quietly feeling the rocks beneath my toes and watching the water flow by. Because right now, this moment, this time, this life and everything else is flowing by so quickly, and I feel swept away.

And for just a moment I'd like to feel the rocks again. Just feel the rocks again. However impermanent or illusionary they, and I, may be.

Happy Happy Birthday to the Beautiful alcestis

Happy Happy Birthday to the Awesome twistopher

And Happy Happy Belateds to gev, alfabettezoupe and merisa

I would usually write about my birthday wishes for you, but I seem to have run out of words.

Know that I wish great things for you.

And for us all.
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Dear Self--

Let's see... Poet, Pirate, Bossman, staff... whom else can we alienate today, eh?

Please stop being an asshole, Ldy.

And eat something already, willya?

Thank you.



Dear Me--

Fuck off!


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    Oops, I did it again.