Monday, August 08, 2011


I guess I had a bad day, although I was not aware of it at the time.  It rained off and on, and I don't mind the rain.  It means I don't have to go out and water all my flowers which I really don't mind doing, but I always get mosquito bit even if I carefully spray that very expensive and nasty Off on.  Or spray on Off.  But I've just been surfing and procrastinating and I noticed I feel confessorial.  Is that a thing?

I actually still feel a little ill from that sun issue, and I am quite angry with Mother Nature over that, but I realize I have dealt unfairly with her and she owes me a few.  So I have to get better physically and get over my blame thing.  Nothing can be done about it now.  It happened.  It's over. 

I need to admit that I want to and try to disregard peoples feellings.  I think  that is justified, but I am not in an excuse making mood.  The truth is, if I am pissed off at you, you can go fuck yourself, and I usually want to tell you that immediately, and I usually do, and I seldom feel regret for it and I generally think, before and after the fact or the incident, that you deserve it.  And, upon later rumination, if I feel I was impetuous in my judgement, I have no problem apologizing.  I frequently will add why I think it happened, not as an excuse, but actually, believe this or not as you choose, as an explanation so you will understand and find it easier to forgive.  This is rare.  That I actually find you undeserving of my wrath and feel you deserve my apologies or that I would expect your forgiveness.   Often I will offer a most sincere sounding apology for something I said or did, not because I am truly sorry I did it, but because I feel bad about hurting your "feelings" which I so expertly run rough shod over.  This is so direct a result of a glaring fact in my upbringing that it doesn't need any more explanation than does the fact that I have red hair.  Hurting "feelings", even those of an unloved pet, or a disliked person, is not something I would ever choose to do.  If I just shot you and got rid of the misery you were causing me, at least then, while I languish in my cell, I will not have the pain of thinking about you walking around with hurt feelings.  You won't be feeling anything. 

I find that when I write fiction, those passages when I deal with people who are more than fond of each other having painful issues dealing with one another, I go on and on with dialogue, having these two imaginary creatures waltz all around the actual issues, trying to say what they think and feel and get to the point where they want you to understand why they are telling you to go fuck yourself but not hurting your feelings or making you feel unloved.  What  is that all about?  I am so quick to fly off the handle.  You don't see it as much as you did when I was 29 cuz I can put up the facade and say the no nevermind words, but in my mind, the bullet has gone out the back of your head and taken 92% of your brain with it.  And I will clean up the mess it left on the wall and the floor with no reluctance.  I am VERY good at cleaning up messes.

In my books I think it is cuz she still wants to have sex with the guy and doesn't want to admit to herself that he is an asshole cuz he is a good lay.  But that for sure does not transfer to my real life.  I guess maybe I wish it did, or it had.  Then.

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