crazywonderful

I can’t quite put my finger on the exact right way to inform friends, family and sympathetic passersby that my relationship, the one with the woman I live with and love, is over. So far, I’m finding mood alterants very helpful. Not with the telling people part. Just more in general.
In the shower last week, where I do all my good thinking, I stood shivering under the scalding spray and thought to myself, Why not get all the mourning done and over with in one big shot? Have a Mourn Fest. Take a few days off while Laura’s away, climb under the covers, whimper at random intervals, refuse to eat anything healthy, and when I emerge, be completely at one with my loss. Then, invite the Rolling Stones over for a concert, which will both prove to the world that I do not have SARS and satisfy the part of me that would like to spend the next several years crawling through the rotting corpses of denial toward recovery.
Yum.
The first part of my plan began yesterday. I have a lot of serious work ahead of me, as not only has my partnership with Laura ended, but my closest, frequentest friend, the brilliant, the crazy, the wonderful Pamela, is leaving for Turkey for two years in two weeks. Right now she’s in Calgary, with her so called “family,” buying a laptop and planning her guest blog.
How does all this make me feel? You know when someone takes something sharp and scrapes out the core of your existence? Kind of like that. I’ve mainly been walking mindlessly around the house, feeling hollow and lacking substance, obsessing over a mixed tape and my new porch, occasionally dropping for unscheduled naps or bouts of tears. Yeah, holiday!
When my ability to just pace maxed out in the early afternoon yesterday, I walked up to the video store. The corner video store, I should add, the one with the friendly dude behind the counter who always comments on rental choices (“In this movie, you get to see Diane Lane’s ass! And also her breasts!”) and how long it’s been since your last visit. I rented Unfaithful, which I mention not because it is in any way a reflection on my current situation, but because I want to warn you to avoid watching this movie at all costs. Or [she lays her hand on his cheek] I’ll learn to play the guitar, and serenade you to sleep every night. But only after you kill my 28 year old French lover with a snow globe, okay?
For an encore, I’m thinking tonight I’ll set up the surround sound and watch Blade II in the dark, which I mention not because it is in any way a reflection on my current situation, but because I want you to know who it is that will likely be phoning you around 2 am, scared stoopid.
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Questioning/Examining:
Alternately: “How many fresh cherries can I eat without reenacting that scene from the Witches of Eastwick?” and “Why exactly hasn’t anyone in my neighborhood invented a junk food delivery service yet?”
Grateful/Relieved:
That the phone makes a noise when it rings. Otherwise I’d never know it was ringing.
Regret/Deny:
Being reassured that my loss is just as valid as a heterosexual person’s. Good to know.
Musing/Reflecting:
So many brain cells, so little time.
Whistling/Humming:
All My Exes Live in Texas – George Strait
Reading/Scanning:
The Breathing Book – Donna Farhi
Shout out to:
Anyone who has ever wiped their ass with snow in general, and Christopher George Begley in particular.