I want to disappear. And why not? Who's stopping me? So I'll probably wind up penniless on the street or (back) on some psycho ward. Who the fuck cares? And with the way the cat's been acting, he can go to Hell with the rest of the assholes in my life. I'm not going to let a 13 pound plastic-eating, sock-molesting, howling ball of allergy-inducing fur dictate my life. He probably only keeps me alive because I feed him. Otherwise, he'd smother me in my sleep.
Is it against the law to run away from home during a pre-approved vacation period? I mean, if I can't do that, am I the biggest fucking chicken shit alive?
I hate to quote RENT, since it's a little trite, but this whole post is, so here it goes.
"From now on, I shoot without a script. . . see if anything comes of it. . . instead of my old shit."
I wish that were true. Back to same old, same old. I'm going to be the same pathetic wimp I've always been, and the time to change will pass me by. They'll find a tumor, and it'll be too late. That'll be it. No legacy, no chance to get it right. I'll have one of those super-quick, late-detected cancers where you check into the hospital on Thursday and you're dead by Sunday. Diana Hyland cancer. And I'll replace the words in the Speed Racer theme song with Go, Speed Cancer, go! And I'll keep twitching my head every time my eyes start to close, because I know that anytime they do, I might just slip away and a nurse will have to approach my mother, sleeping in a chair, and say, "She's gone." Just like in Terms of Endearment. I wonder what happened to that random woman who played that nurse. I wonder if she still talks about when she had bit parts in movies. I wonder if she had speed cancer.
And I'm not switching blogs just yet. Screw that. I'm staying right here. And I'm writing what's on my mind and I'm sending it out into the world because I guess I'm an attention whore and, like the Cowardly Lion, I just gotta let it out. I'm sorry if I'm not funny tonight. Tonight I'm pissed. And I'm covering the blog with piss. Figuratively, of course. I don't want piss getting all over my keyboard.
I guess you could say I had a bad day. But, in the words of Charity Hope Valentine, there's always tomorrow. Only a day away and all that jazz.
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6 comments:
OMG! I can't believe there is another cat out there that eats plastic! I have to make sure all the plastic is out of reach of my little girls' (cats') mouth. If she should find any and eat it, then I find the wonderful little "give back" remnants on the carpet, of course!!! ;o)
My cats eat plastic and lick pictures.
Who doesn't want to run away?
Nice rant. Must have felt good. I event got some benefit from it by osmosis. I think it will be really funny when you actually live to be 101 and appear on a jar of Smucker's (with a name like Smucker's it's gotta be good) on the Today Show. Of course, I won't be here to see it, but imagining it now brings a smile to my face. Carli at 101 years old on a jar of Smucker's. My day is set.Happy Friday!
I agree with Suzy Q. Long live Carli! And if it's any consolation, yesterday was a crappy day for me too. Must have been something in the atmosphere.
Please don't change your plans to get up and go on an adventure. I think it would be great for you and I can't wait to read the blog posts about it. T-Mo.
You know Carli -- I don't know you. I happened onto your blog by random chance about a year ago, I think. I tune in from time to time, just because I've become fond of you. Not in a creepy stalker-ish way. In that sort of slightly disconnected serendipitous Internet way that blogging seems to cultivate.
Anyway, all I wanted to say is, I'm always in favor of Carli taking a risk and facing her fears. But she's okay even when she doesn't.
Your rental car vacation plan sounds perfectly lovely. I encourage you to do it.
Oddly -- my day yesterday was rather frustrating as well. I support the "something in the atmosphere" theory proposed above. Or below. I'm not sure where I am in cyberspace...
I loved the car rental idea - i was wondering if you were on vacation now. Any chance you can put in a plug for Mustafa (the Persian who needs a home?) I emailed you at work - but maybe you were on vacation. Thanks - hope to see you soon. AP
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