Burro

My daughter is in Mexico City right now. She will be on her way to Peru soon.

I have a tooth in my head that needs to get pulled, I reckon, but I am so used to acting like everything is ok that I just take aspirin and hope it falls out on its own. I need new teeth..but that’s on the list so it’s ok. I did irreparable damage to my body over the many years of self-neglect. My teeth are a visual reminder of what a bitch depression can be. I hate them.

So babies, my life has devolved into watching game shows and smoking weed, going to the gym, smoking weed and making dishes dirty for my husband to wash. It’s an endless cycle of cat feeding and trips to the bathroom to stare at my reflection in the middle of the night. There is something different that my brain is trying to catch up to. Is it the way my skin settles over my body now, tucked in places that have never had shape? Curious silhouette, almost enviable if it wasn’t on my own body. I put the scale away, up on a tall shelf. I decided I was going to keep on living this way until it became impossible for me to ignore it again. Now I wait, drink cups of black coffee and go to the gym where people stare at the walls and sweat. What do they think about? I think about sex when I go to the gym. It’s the only way I could ever get my ass there on time and consistently.

They say to enjoy the journey. It’s become quizzical and bizarre. I had more fun getting fat and not caring so much.. but that isn’t really true. I had a good journey writing my book. Maybe I need to concentrate on something other than my body? But this seems wrong, afterall I spent my whole life ignoring it. I was thinking about this point yesterday as I stared up at the tall shelf with the scale. My whole life my body was screaming from the inside for me to pay attention to it, and I told it to shut up and eat instead. Now I spend hours reading and studying ways to heal it and nurture and sculpt it. Fat people often know more about this kind of thing than most. We pour over books, websites and diet plans, watch all the new fads and buy the newest products, pills and exercise plans with the ultimate hope that this one thing will be THE one thing that will work.

So this is working. And it’s not. 

But you can’t lose fat that has settled in the brain. The fat that covers the lens of seeing yourself that way all your life. The mirror is always the kind in the fun house, distorting the shape, creating a mystery of what is real and imagined. I woke up at 3am and stared at my reflection last night in the full length mirror in the hall way in the dark. Who is this person? Who does she think she is?

God, I am such a bore.

I was thinking that it has been a long time since I have been to a proper art opening.  I miss seeing the people I often run into there and the free booze and good times.  It think it’s weird how I always looked forward to those nights, planning my outfits around them, showing up for the paparazzi or the oak cliff equivalent of such, and holding my breath the next day and hoping the pictures did my outfit justice. I just ain’t feeling that life much anymore.  We are going to the Blues’ palace this Saturday.  I don’t know what is going to happen, but I have a general idea. Lots of drinking, dancing and some form or other of drama that will need to be addressed the next day thru hangover thoughts and bloody Mary’s.

Or I could be wrong.

Work is a mess and I am spending way too much time trying to figure it out. This wasn’t the deal. I was supposed to get a mindless job that I could do and go home and be creative. Instead I find myself exhausted every day and wondering when this other job offer I have been waiting on for months is going to come, if ever.  Can I subscribe to the idea that everyone is where they need to be ATM?  Why does everything have to happen later and not now and now is some kind of construct we tell ourselves to be happy with? Why bother breathing then? Why bother waking up if later doesn’t matter.

I digress.

Did you know you can go to the city that you live in and get the council to vote on creating a poet laureate position and in theory nominate one self for that appointment? What kind of person would do that? Me. That’s who. But seriously, what have I done to deserve that type of thing except work hungry for years on end. There are other poets that would deserve that type of thing more than I.. but who is going to get that ball rolling? Does Dallas want someone like me representing them in the grand world of poetry? Would they even care? I am just thinking this might be a way to kick start a career that didn’t  settle on working conditions like the ones I am dealing with now. Seriously, I  don’t know how to act in an office where I am not the craziest one.  That, my babies is foreign land for sure.

I had a dream last night that I found a whole season of MASH that I had never seen. I was so freaking happy.

We finished GLOW season 3 and it was a monster. I can’t believe I have to wait another year to see what happens now. Great job of writing, great story lines and great acting.  I want to be a Gorgeous Lady of Wrestling when I grow up. Maybe a faded starlet. I should ask Dillon to make me a costume. 

One with my ass hanging out.

I am getting to be ok with my ass. I’m getting to be ok. Now if I could just stop thinking I’m not.