| THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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radio all the time, but i don't listen to radio as much as i used to. reminds me of a story. when i was in hospital a few months back, i had to take these physical therapy classes. in one, i and a group of about 12 other patients lined up in a row. all the others were between 70 and 95 - stroke and heart attack victims and worse; one guy had half his skull missing. we were given 1 or 2 pounds weights and basically did "sit and be fit" routines (everyone was in a wheelchair). they usually played some bland pop on an iphone stuck in a speaker cradle. one day the woman leading the exercises, who was from trinidad, asked for a name to program into the phone (i guess it was pandora radio). when nobody said anything, i suggested james brown. i was surprised that she seemed a little worried about my suggestion. i assumed it was going to be all the early classics like "i feel good" and shit. what could go wrong? it immediately launches into "sex machine". i thought it was funny, the sad damaged lot of us moving to "sex machine". our leader didn't, though, and tried to ignore it at first, but when the chorus came around she looked worried. she would go over every so often and turn it down a little. it turns out that the words STAY ON THE SCENE (GET ON UP) LIKE A SEX MACHINE manage to say audible no matter how low the volume. that's why james brown is great. |
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that is so awesome. |
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why did you end up in the hospital? |
at heart", a documentary about a senior citizen's choir somewhere in massachusetts (i think) who sing rock songs. they do my favorite version of "i wanna be sedated." broke my femur. |
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ouch. how did you do that? |
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i couldn't even get to the bottom of a glass of wine last night when, thirty minutes into our first date night in several months, which he proposed but which i had to plan, and our first moment alone together in several weeks, senor was still agonizing over minutia regarding the upcoming st. louis memorial (should he call it a memorial? memorial service? memorial gathering? wake? and should he order a deli tray?) i sat there and tried to recall a time when he ever spent as much time or physical or mental or emotional energy or bothered with any sort of detailed strategerie regarding me or our family or our relationship. certainly not during sex. not for anything in recent memory. maybe the last and only time was our wedding. and we eloped. and i was pregnant. SHAME ON YOU SARAH FOR SUCH SELFISH THOUGHTS DURING A TIME LIKE THIS. YOU ARE TO BE SILENT AND SUPPORTIVE , BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY, INVISIBLE UNLESS OTHERWISE DIRECTED, DURING SUCH GRIEF AND FAMILY CRISIS. deep breaths deep breaths deep breaths deep breaths. don't do it don't say it just let him talk just keep drinking. when he got to the part about his phone conversation with a representative from the teacher's union about some measly but obviously unlikely existence of any life insurance policy, i had had enough. so with nothing else to do, i just got up and left the restaurant, went to the car, turned on pandora, and the song that first played was my man's gone by nina simone. |
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i know, i know, i get it. i suck. what's worse is living with near sainthood as the mirror through which all eyes compare. it's a reflection. i keep the lights are low. the walls burgundy. sometimes it feels like the therapy is helping to slowly disassemble the walls and patch up the sore oozing vulnerabilities. but mostly i am all too aware that i am stuck in an endless cycle of fucked up neural sympathetic transmitters habitually knee-jerk reacting, misfiring in no predictable way. that can't be good. |
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Sarah, there is nothing wrong with you. I expect people have feelings like that when they aren't getting what they need. Being selfish is the only thing for it, in the sense of exploring your own process and setting things straight. Being single is fine, but I will never prefer it. I belong in a pack, even a tiny one. |
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unhappy. That doesn't make you sucky. Sometimes you need to be selfish to get shit done. |
here, Don't stay up too late |
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do i seem unhappy? i guess now i could see how it may appear that way. i don't come here to write about all the laughs we have. when i was single, living in hawaii or even my first years in austin, from the outside my life seemed happy and ideal. but i inside i was quite miserable and lonely. now from the outside i probably seem miserable, and sometimes marriage does make me feel invisible, but on the inside i am so fulfilled. i know that senor and i will be together, for better or for worse, til death do us part. i love being married. love it. but marriage is fucking a lot of hard work. work like roll up your sleeves and start digging with a fifty pound shovel kind of hard work. the kind of work that in this country 41% of people in their first marriage decide they can't handle. being intimate and real with someone, and having a family with someone, can be annoyingly and incredulously difficult. but being connected with someone is so worth it. it's worth the retarded, dramatic fights. the sacrifice and compromise. the revival of childhood trauma. my marriage, my family are the only things in my life that mean anything. without them i'm not sure i would have a reason in this life to event attempt to qualify as a good person. |
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Although I don't think being married is different from when we were engaged or even just living together - except when telemarkers call and I can say 'I need to ask my husband about that'. Although our honeymoon could be interesting given we've never been overseas together. |
I like heather's "I belong in a pack" statement. True, how social and independently needy we become as humans wandering in some B movie. Fuck, I don't know what I'm saying. |
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thanks Daniel. it really feels like a B movie. all four of us will be in St. Louis most of next week doing more bereavement-related things. how does one break one's femur? |
and i can't feel it when they do. for everyone else it's just a hassle. |
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i love those straight-laced trini women. good to see you, droopy. it's rainin' in portland |
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would mean some significant shit to live through. There is nowhere to go. |
worth my while. 27 years, but i'd still be old enough to vote. but would i really want to relive the 80s? |
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from me. |
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