Conversations about suicide come floating down the river of memories and I hear some voices promising me they will not do anything, alternating being begging and yelling they pull at me.
I see images of myself and others from particular moments in time and remember pulling someone by their collar from the floor into a position in which they had to make eye contact with me.
Remember wondering if I was making it better or worse and listening to them tell me I don’t understand and how I shook my head.
“I know about secret worlds and wishes. I know about dreams and feeling like they will never be answered and yet believing it is impossible for them not to be.”
Maybe some of these memories and moments have floated into the stories posted here and elsewhere.
Maybe those who feel like they are on the outside looking know as much or as little as those who believe they are in the inside.
We talk about what it means to have lost a parent and I say it is hard because even though you know better you expect them to be there forever.
Heads nod and I add a comment about how it can be applicable to others. “That man or woman you expected to be a part of your life can muck you up too. If they suddenly disappear and you never expected them too, well that can throw you.”
Midway through the third season of The Crown on Netflix and it is clear to me if the depiction of the English monarchy is 50 percent accurate I am glad to have no part of it.
Glad to not to be a prisoner of such a life. Glad to be able to declare my own queen and not to have to deal with a life of rules and regulations.
No one cares how I talk or who I speak with. No one notices if I am 900 pounds too heavy or underfed.
They don’t tear through every post I write in every place and try to determine whether I am divulging gossip or sharing secrets.
I get to be Joe Citizen and I like that just fine.
Ok, per blog rules two comments about the last comment:
1) There are the occasional blog stalkers like uncoordinated redneck attorneys who are likely shoot themselves in the gut instead of the pigs they hunt and assorted goof balls.
But they usually get tired and if they don’t I usually have found ways to run them off.
2) A friend asked what I would do if I published a very successful book and my fans found my blogs. I told my buddy I didn’t see a problem with that.
Hell, if I am that successful I’ll deal with it then but I don’t expect it to be an issue.
He said I just jinxed myself and I said ok because a writer with that kind of success will probably be able to retire whenever he wants.
I didn’t plan on updating this blog tonight. Didn’t plan on doing anything because I wasn’t sure what I wanted to share and if I had anything special.
But here I am feeding my mistress because she is forever asking me to feed her.
And hell, if you post enough stuff you are going to come up with something useful, entertaining and memorable eventually.
Or maybe that is just an excuse to write because I wanted to.
We don’t get everything we want, but we don’t miss out on everything either, assuming we are smart enough to keep our eyes open.
And that’s all you get in this joint tonight, got other places and spaces to haunt.