daily preciousness

Wednesday, November 10, 2004

strange fruit

This has been a strange time for me. Emotionally. I'm not sure exactly what I'm feeling right now. Hard to say... It's a mix of feelings that make my heart feel dry and worn out. Like a scarecrow.

And maybe I'm seeing things through a mournful lens. I just can't seem to be my usual self.

I'm doing fine, going through the routines of my day...

I'm eating an apple or reading a book...

in a cheerfully indifferent state...

until it hits me again what has happened.

And then the bitter taste in my mouth returns; how dark, my piece of sky! Darkness surrounds and abounds and my thoughts tumble over me like the chill of a winter wind.

And I curse the South and the poor choices that they've made for us.

The hours and hours that I spent in Florida seem like the wingflaps of a butterfly caught in a hurricane. And the outcome of hurricanes, as Florida well knows, is complete devastation.

You'd think that they'd learned that lesson well enough.

But what am I kidding myself about? I'm not special; I'm just one of a million depressed liberals right now. And I'm only a liberal because I'm a hyper-sensitive, overly compassionate idiot who cares too much. I should just get over it. Just get out of my head and live a little.

I've already started rebelling in little ways. I played paintball and revelled in shooting people. I whooped and hollered and ran around like a ten-year-old. I felt blood lust after every single one of my "kills."

(Granted, there were only, like, 4 of them, but I savored them all....)

I also jay-walked twice one day. Oh, and I stole a pack of bubble gum from the CVS pharmacy, shot a homeless guy just to watch him die and even watched a movie without paying! OMG! I'm a bad-ass! I totally rock so hard that I may injure myself and others. I'm PG-13, these days, I tell ya.

Jim sent me an adorable teddy bear.



It was very sweet of him. Little Teddy McFuzzykins (TM) keeps me company at night with his soft, fuzzy self. When I shut myself down at night.

And then the dreams of blood inhabit my sleep.

And I let them tie me up into a knot.

And hang me from a tree.

And dangle, left to die.

And I just think about this strange tree that America has planted in its front yard. And I have to ask myself: What strange fruit will it bear during the next four years? Time will tell. And history will judge her harshly for what she's done.

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