Tuesday, March 23, 2010

high-proof percentages

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Last night was dramatic. With the idea that I "really needed to get out of my head" I sipped what was left of the ten dollar box wine from 7-11, while watching Synecdoche, NY.

Talk about a mindfuck. By the time I got to bed at three, I felt morbidly alone.

I roused Ned to smack me around a bit and then cried in his arms babbling about my lack of family until I fell asleep...blacked out, who knows.

Yesterday was a pretty overwhelming day to put my system into an overload like that.

Waking up the first thing I saw in my inbox was a notification that Jereme had written something on my facebook wall about being a failure AND a bad friend. He'd posted it twice too, so everyone would be sure to see.

All this because of a borrowed copy of Ohle's Motorman, supposedly, but nothing is ever that simple.

I figured Jereme felt as though I'd been avoiding him for some dumb shit reason, so he publicly attacked me without a phone call disclaimer, warning, anything.

He finally came into the wine shop where I work yesterday to buy a cigar and pick up the book. I'm never borrowing, or lending, anything ever again. I've decided.

After that episode, I was asked to stay three hours longer at work, unexpectedly, which led me into a nine-hour shift. But that was fine. I need the money to get out of debt, and Ned shouldn't have to take care of me like some disturbed feline-infant toy.

(I trimmed his hair and beard in the yard today, tossing his course half-Italian hair all over the place. It was all over his back when I was finished, on my face, on the porch.

What's incredibly charming about grooming a shirtless man standing barefoot in the grass checking his Blackberry, is the way he stands perfectly still when scissors are around his ears and lips. I'll have to remember that when he's being incorrigible.)

So I had to think about the family thing I got bugged out about last night--my absentee, estranged and deceased father, my very Korean mother and our gaps in communication.

Half my blood relatives live in Korea and I'd barely recognize them on the street if I saw them.

The other half, my dad's side of the family, well, to them I've been a taboo subject for years after my father remarried the woman he was seeing while he was still married to my mother. The new lady told him to forget about me through many crying fits of jealousy and rage, so he did, for the sake of love and sanity, I figure.

All of this and I find out he's dead of cancer and cremated before I can make amends. I try not to think about these things...

Movies, if they are very good, have a great way of sending a person's mind through a whirl of emotional distress. Synecdoche did that, with the protagonist's family and love life falling in and out of drama, in a world within a world, within a world.

Mix that with high-proof percent box wine, the stress of a nine-hour work day (resulting in a net gross of about seventy bucks sans taxes), add a touch of derogatory "failure", a nice word to throw at someone in their early adulthood who still doesn't know what the hell to do with herself, and we've got a cocktail of undeniable self-hatred.

And trying to rationalize all that into being a good thing...Maybe ten years ago. But now it seems sillier than ever to romanticize suffering.

Talk about fires under asses. I've been nothing than a sponge for literary and film input lately.

Hopefully, the mix will be useful, eventually, aside from just making an imprint and then fading away into answers for Jeopardy.

I really like this song from the film



***NOTE: As an afterthought, my Aunt Meg got in touch with me today on facebook, my dad's oldest sister. We're not even friends there. She found me and now we're communicating. Good timing on her part. I'll take this as a sign that it's time for old wounds to heal. And to let bygones be bygones...we'll see.

1 comment:

The Swan Prince said...

what a soothing song and melody

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