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Entry 07/05/2014 11:54:18 AM - Mentat 705
Summer Solstice has come and gone.
Emancipation Day has come and gone… And a lot quieter than I thought possible. More on that in a little bit.
Stonewall Day has come and gone.
Yes, Independence Day has even come and gone.
It's not as though I've been completely uninspired; just mostly for the last couple of weeks. While some of it has to do with the exorcising of demons as part of my Emancipation Day tradition, most of it had to do with the outrageously annoying and extremely draining moderate heat coupled with unbearable humidity that we had been getting through the last couple of days. Now that tropical-storm-turned-weak-hurricane-turned-tropical-storm-again Arthur has come and gone… Well, let's just say it's marvelous, the right sort of warm, breezy and the last week's oppressive, Southern Humidity in the North is totally gone, I'm sitting here with the windows open, fans blowing (with and without the breeziness) and Moe expectedly torn between wanting to chase the little red light and getting up on the desk for some one-on-one attention. Looks like the attention won out, as he's currently plopped on my shoulder with his tail wagging away (between happy and aggravating). Not that this is going to make typing easy as this is just the usual prelude to, "I don't like your shoulder, let me casually slide down into the crook of your arm and whack your face with my tail…"
Ha! That's not going to happen for as long as my notebook's open…
Starting with last night (and working backwards instead of all over the place), I had my first nightmare in a long while. While the dream itself was only moderately scary -- dealing with some sort of infection turned zombie apocalypse -- I found myself practically screaming in the night-terrors sort of way as I was waking up. Sure, lucid dreaming was easy enough… During the part in the dream where someone's son was infected by the virus and only had minutes before turning into some sort of brain-eating monster, I woke myself rather calmly. It was during the wake up process that I had scared myself. It seems that while I was waking up, my semi-conscious mind tried to bring to the conscious one of the zombies and it was crawling up into the bed (and over the covers), to pin me down and eat my face off.
That in itself kept me up for about 2 to 2½ hours as I tried to work through the fear and the hyper-attention I had going for that scary moment. I was rather surprised that it was the semi-conscious part of the brain that suffered from the fright instead of the subconscious/unconscious; particularly when you realize just how psychotic my dream states can be. But after watching some distracting videos (as I wasn't quite able to listen to ambient music of DI.FM's Space Dreams), I passed out like I normally would, only to wake up much later than I expected.
I'm not quite sure why or what caused that bad dream turned nightmare. I haven't been watching anything about zombies or strange mutant-altering viruses; hell most of my television or diversions have been either science-fiction or actions… I'm sure that if I think about it enough, I might have a little luck finding the trigger. Either-or… it's a first in a long time.
Then earlier in the night (like around an hour before closing time for Tammany Hall), someone was firing off fireworks in Piedmont Street. Between the sounds and the lights, I remember waking up to the noise and thinking, "if that shit continues, I swear I'll call the police for the cunt that was disturbing the peace." No, I didn't do it, couldn't actually as my phone was in the office on the other side of the wall. Fortunately for me and the rest of the people in the neighborhood, it was a culmination to the various firework noises that have been going on in the neighborhood. Between the neighbor across the street firing off fireworks (and we think getting chastised by the neighbor next door), to the kids over on Knight Street firing them off later in the evening (read: past midnight, early morning), it's been more noisy than I'm used to during this time of year than when I used to live in the Valley.
In the last couple of years, whenever there was fireworks going off for this time of year it always sounded so… distant. Like it wasn't part of the neighborhood at all. This year? Ugh, it feels like it's going on just outside of my house (in spite of the fact that some of it's 2 streets over on one side, and halfway downtown on the other.
Moe on the other hand, I think has developed a nervous tic. Seems he has a hot spot on his left foreleg. I'm not sure whether it's from the move, it's been there for a while and I've only just started noticing. Or whether it's really recent with all the noise and all the windows being opened. It's not too bad -- he hasn't developed any sores in the process. It's just been made bald from his cleaning (I've finally seen him going to town on the area). While he was good in not running off of the bed and hiding for hours when the folk were firing off firecrackers and various noisemakers…. He has through the last week. So much so, that there have been times when I've come home from walking my mother's monster child, that I've found him in the portable closet, hiding for his life. So in the meantime, as I continue to make sure it's the other possible cause for that bald spot (boredom), I've been playing with him more and giving him the treat of napping with me when I take a quick lie-down. Seems all right, but hell during the hotter days, just what I need on my crotch -- a sprawled out, legs in the air, purring, fur belt.
Then at the end of last week, Stonewall Day (which sort of is a hop, skip and a jump to the weekend before), I got the usual questions about, "will you be going down to Pride?"
Of course I recounted the story to family mostly but a couple of friends that I was chatting with online, about the last pride I went to a couple of years ago (when I was living with that douchebag, drunken artist wannabe)… You know, the one where I felt like I was one of the tallest (and oldest) queerfolk in the land of the Lilliputians. Oh and the only taller person had the hair of Chewbacca… And no I don't mean he was a walking carpet, but instead hair on his head slicked back and long like Chewbacca.
My attitude hasn't changed about folk here in this state and with that in mind, I saw no need or want to mingle with the attitude I've encountered since coming back to the state. And while that entry was only a couple of weeks ago, it remains a sort of anchor/milestone to my continued approach to the folk and people in the area.
Though for a moment it did raise the question in my mind, "why is it that I truly stay in the state?" Well, other than the obvious answer of my family in all it's bizarre and sometimes dysfunctionally warring sort of way… I have to say I think I'm finally settled.. The oats have been sown… The mad cow has finally been hit with the right tranquilizer. Mother's Little Helper has finally helped mother…
[Last Edited: 07/05/2014 07:41:23 PM]
Before Stonewall Day was Emancipation Day… While I didn't do anything completely dramatic or… well over-dramatic about releasing the left over demons, I can say without a shadow of a doubt declare that I can now think about the douchebag ex-landlord and not think about punching him in the throat repeatedly. That doesn't exclude the thought of throwing rocks at his SUV if he tries being "nice" in my direction, but at least it's not the threat of strong physical violence at the sight of the two-faced, delusional bastard. And no… I won't stop with the names… Even 35 years later, I still refer to my first ex-boyfriend as either "the asshole" or "my first asshole".
Hell, I can even get through the thought of the ex-roommate douchebag without wanting to give the man two black eyes in the process. Sure, I might be resigning myself to the thought that with the amount of cheap drinking and cheaper cigarettes the only way he's going to keel over either through lung cancer (or any other cancers associated to smoking) and/or cirrhosis of the liver. It's a slow way, yes I know. And that silly, petty stealing douche will not only leave the world penniless but also unknown, but hopefully in doing so his kids will completely hate his existence… Evil I know… but at least I'm resigned to karma paying back as karma always pays back. Instead of wanting to take a completely active role in his (and the douchey ex-landlord's) demise. And again, no… I won't stop with the names. They dissed me and were disrespectful, they don't deserve any respect from me.
It took me over 4 months, several attempts at facing it and then letting it go, more times with denial than I would like to admit, and having to say it aloud enough to realize the amount of vehemence and anger that I was containing. While I might not be able to shake the scorn -- something I know that I can hang on to no matter what -- the anger and rage is finally spent.
And that’s pretty much it in a nutshell. I'm still not quite as creative as I should be, but at least I'm a bit more at peace with myself than usual. Now I'm off for the night… Until the next time.