Today a little boy almost made cross country on a silver balloon. That would have been the coolest day ever!!!! I'm not going to go out into my yard a copycat it, but it is really fucking tempting. Instead he was hiding in the attic, with helicopters buzzing around just trying to get a glimpse of the boy who flew.
Tonight I am self medicating with a 10 year tawny port. Not to worry,I'm not going to over do it. I don't want to waste the delicious tawny port on such a sour mood. I love this port...how it hugs the side of the glass when I swirl it around. It makes these inviting rolling layered streaks. The smell like candied, homeade baked goods, alcohol. It tells you that everything will be so much better once ingested. And it's right.
You might have to use your extra good Indian tracking skills to read this and absorb knowledge through the context clues. It will be the MS and the port talking at the same time. I'm not going to be in any state to apologize for it either.
I supposed it would hit me, that I really am disabled and I really will not be working anymore. And this disease is real, and costly. Most people are so excited for me about not working, I can work on my painting and my writing, and bettering my health. I wasn't worried or scared ----until today.
I'm not sure what it is that makes people freak out. I had so many people tell me their horror stories about Social Security, being disabled, being broke. All the what are you going to do's? and How are you going to make it's? Well, I don't truly have an answer for that. I suppose I'm going to make it the same way I've made if for all of my life. I suppose I'm just going to have to do that. Or, maybe it will all go away, my average life that I work so hard to get, and I die, dirty and homeless in pee stained clothes on some concrete somewhere. I sometimes think about saying it. But, the comments from the peanut gallery. Jesus.
And my mother who's mentally ill has been completely out of control since I told her that my life would be changing. The calls with her delusions...they are constant. I get it, she's afraid that I won't be there, and who would listen and what would happen. My father decided to send an email, that was about him, and grandma and how bad it is for them, together. And they'll never get that they both behave the same way, and how I hoped that I won't be like them. I can't help them right now. Truth be told, you're not who I want to help right now. It's been years, and I just need a break. I'll come back later, I promise, but now, I need a break.
The morning didn't start off too bad. The day was so nice. I wanted to be outside. To watch outside.
I met with the producer for my show. Did I say that I was planning a show? Yes, yes I am. He had to check me out. To make sure that I was serious. I had to check him out, to make sure that he was serious.
We talked about the level of commitment and work that this would take. And how I would have to be pushed and reach. I know.
This is something that I want. This is something that I think I could commit to. This is something that I could do. I want to do it.
Do I think that I have that much to say that would be of any merit to someone else. Well, that is a scary point isn't it. I kinda' figure that as much as I've seen and continue to see, I think I've got a thing or to that might be interesting. Other than that, I suppose it's completely selfish. I want to be talking to people and saying a few things before it's too late for me to say them. We spend so much of our life not saying anything, not even telling each other the truth. I've done that a lot.
Recalling conversations that I've had over the years- working, there are so many things I wanted to say differently, but couldn't because of constraints. That idea of being free, my mind free, my words free, even for just an hour or two. Can you imagine the release of that? That is what I want to accomplish.
There was a old man, he was woken up from his coma, just to watch a football game. His team won, he saw it, then he died three days later.
I'm not saying that I'm dying. I'm just closer than some people. And probably not as close as others. But, what I do need is a break from the crap that's bringing me down, man.
Thank you Tawny Port. You are my saviour.
I'll try to write something not so bumbed out tomorrow. But, true to my other blog entries, you should see all of me. That good, the bad, and the self medicated winer....would you expect anything less?
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