A couple of weeks ago had the same spell to them as my usual days. My partner-in-crime had been out of town for about a week or so, and I had done little except lay around without internet access in the office while a stomach virus left me less than useless. Each morning I would wake up feeling better, but by noon struck I felt as though someone had dropped a grenade down my esophagus. I doubted it was a contagious illness, and I still came out to play. Especially considering the fact that I desperately need to move out before I start h0nking or go Wolf Gang KTA.
A chance encounter had me buy a beautiful woman a beer. My fatal flaw is beautiful women with strong wills; generally those who follow their dreams despite fear and unsure means. A cross-country adventure is what I too will someday do; it is not time, yet. To hear I had helped in preparation was nice, though I am so incredibly envious!
I received a call probably a few days later (maybe the same day, I don’t really separate time into days); I had forgotten when my sister had the condo, and she told me she would be picking me up within the next couple of days to go to New Smyrna Beach for a week. I didn’t really want to go. I love the beach, but the thought of spending a week near my mom didn’t sound particularly pleasing to me. I figured she would do her best to draw us into misery and anxiety.
Those fears weren’t unfounded, and a few nights she got particularly unbearable. Nobody wants to reopen old wounds that have healed (as best as death can be healed, I suppose), and my mom has to romanticize death with religion. This coupled with the fact that she speaks worse than me at times during her drunkenness (which is an incredible feat with how my mouth doesn’t work), made me wish we were eating xanax for dinner.
Jellyfish were everywhere the first few days. I also found an abandoned boogie board and claimed it. Then, I found the condo had like five and a skimboard and chairs and umbrellas as well as Orlando Magic posters. My brother and his pregnant fiance came for a few of the days. While my brother and sister and I were standing on a sandbar some fifty or sixty feet out from the shore, a lovely shark came to say hi next to us. My sister, Sergeant Champoux, is a medic, but we didn’t feel like making homemade stitches, so we cancelled the idea of being in the water as fast as Fox did Firefly.
Now, I’m back in the area. There’s so much I need to do, but the higher the list piles the more drained I’m feeling. It will take a least a week to wash the depression from my bones unless I get caught up in the darkness (as I often do). The fact that my body feels as dull and useless as I do and aches and aches doesn’t make it easy to set life on autopilot. Instead hours pass in days and self-deprecation commands each and every thought.
Last night, I went to go see Mega Ran at The Haven. Before I had even left the house, I was ready to go to bed for a week. The show started early, at 7PM, and all I could think of was sleeping. I got there early and chatted with Random/Mega Ran as well as some of the other performers. They were all good, and the show ended a lot earlier than I thought it would. I had brought a buddy with me, and we rode down Aloma. By the time we reached a turn, I waited for all the cars to clear away so I could make my way left.
Of course, a car appears out of nowhere, barreling down at around 70-80MPH. I had to stop, and though I had plenty of time to get out of the way, part of me wanted to just let the car hit me. Had I not had a passenger I might have possibly considered it. Though, probably not. Getting home, I was shaken, frustrated, and pissed. I felt shitty and had a stew of self-pity heating up. My cousin mentioned the fact that she was going to Rocky Horror.
I hadn’t been to see the Rich Weirdos do it in almost a decade (yeah, I used to go to Rocky Horror when I was like 10). Of course, I wished I had a glock on the ride to Citywalk. Sometimes, I just can’t stand people; especially loud, annoying, self-righteous people. I’m one to talk; I’m the most narcissistic person anyone could ever meet. But, I don’t feel the need to yell around a car. These so-called friends just bickered about each other behind the others’ backs. I’m an asshole, but at least I’ll tell you to your face that you’re being annoying when I want it to be heard.
I had also already spent money I didn’t have and then was getting ready to spend more. Such is life. I also didn’t even attempt to get anything done.
And there’s still so much to do.