Preemptive Blackout with Little Notice.

If Only It Hurt To Be An Asshole.

So…I am plagued right now by several people in my life who seem to think that I am an idiot. I may not always say things in the moment, when someone is attempting to play me like a slot machine, I may not always even realize it at that point in time, but I will realize it. Trust that much. I can’t stand it when people are unable to own their own bullshit in life; much less when said people insist on trying to shift any blame or responsibility over such bullshit onto others when they get called on it.

I have my own bullshit and my own problems. I have my own issues to work on without other people constantly trying to force feed me the workload of their bullshit as well. People just don’t seem to comprehend how fucking stupid they look when they do this, as if I can’t do the math and see what they are doing, or trying to do. Do other people not see how low that takes them by behaving like a 2 year old? Do other people actually think that these pathetic and constant attempts at deflecting the TRUTH will somehow carry them through life? Without losing everyone who might have really cared about them?

It would just be really nice if other people could own their shit, even once in a while. It’s really old being mostly surrounded by people who always want to shift blame and try to make me accountable for shit that has NOTHING to do with me. If only it hurt to be an asshole, maybe people would find a way to check themselves.

Flounder.

I’ve been circling the moldy, plankton encrusted bottom layers of life; feeding off of the slowly sinking debris that once littered the surface layers: the leftovers of a long-ago feast that I attended up there.

My vision has adapted to the murk; my breathing has adjusted to the oxygen depletion of dangerous depths and harrowing heights; my skin has settled into the wrinkled prune-esqueness of an over-long bubble bath; my hair now growing shafts of seaweed and tangly kelp in place of it’s natural fibers.

I’m a flounder, living with a great white shark who is lazy with a eating disorder; I am stuck in the suction of his hefty submerged wake; I am seemingly happy to gobble up the chunks of shit that fall from the sides of his razor sharp bite as he chews incessantly; I am his shadow down here.

PART ONE: THE ACCOUNTING DEPT.

Shame on them all, the blind fuckheads that they are…how soon we forget where we came from.

  1. You’ve got Ms. Office Manager of “Deliverance”:
    too caught up in her own confusion and cluelessness to even realize what a mistake it was to put someone as lacking in workplace knowledge and ethic as herself in charge. She calls shots and plays smart as the accounting department goes to shambles because she doesn’t know shit about what she’s doing from day to day. Not cold hearted, but heartless. Not even kidding anyone about anything, despite her failed self-imaging of a Jedi Master.
  2. Then there’s lil Miss “Princess Complex” Assistant Manager:
    She’s like 12 years old, in every way besides her ungainly height…the very last kind of person on Earth you wanna give any control to because yeah, she likely blows kisses to herself in the mirror whenever she gets the chance. This one is single handedly holding up the accounting department, and this can’t last. The gods have put her quite the lose-lose predicament, though she doesn’t know it yet. Too young for me to really hate forever.

Next, there’s Wednesday Addams, the unknowing lame:
So what? Wow, she inputs data and walks around like a permanent Mad Dog, with the most miserably frowning face imaginable every moment of every day. She covertly snitches on co-workers, pays far too much attention to what everyone else is doing, and was personally offended by Miss Princess Complex’s promotion to Assistant Manager when it happened, talking long shot about the entire situation. I’ve never heard her say anything remotely positive about the company etc. If any workplace on the planet had fewer employees like her, the world would be a better place.

The kicker to this scenario is that the rest of “the team” bust their collective assets to hold everything together: good, bad or otherwise. It tolls heavily. Then, the instant somebody speaks up about the conditions that we’re working under, it’s announced that employees are not allowed to walk around expressing any type of dissatisfaction.
Well Wednesday Addams gets to walk around looking looking like her dog just got run over by a car.
Fuck that place, I’m blessed to have finally gotten out.

Futile. 

I’ve never felt so alone.
And, Ive spent my life feeling alone.
…didn’t know this kind of alone was even possible.

The End.

My mom seemed a little “off” on Thanksgiving…maybe a little more tired than most other times I’d seen her recently. She’d been doing the withdrawal thing for some time leading up to that night…resigning herself to the death that has been chasing her since this time last year. Her spark had been low and she didn’t eat much on Turkey Day. That was the last time I saw my mom.

She must’ve had the stroke sometime after we all left her for the night…
Now, she just lays in her bed at the hospital, no signs of life besides her breathing. She sometimes responds to a question or comment, but mostly, she just lies there starring at a spot on the ceiling.

She has a low-grade fever every night, further damaging what brain cells that have managed to spare themselves from destruction throughout everything. The doctors say that the stroke was caused by her brain mets (her most recent PET scan showed several very small tumors in the frontal lobe above her eyes); they say that is the root cause of the lasting delirium and confusion also.

The full sentences that she manages to get out make no sense at all and range from topics like horse racing to stigmata (not a single topic being anything familiar or realistic). Sometime during the first week of this hospitalization, she blurted out pretty loudly and clearly

“I don’t wanna be part of this two-bit town!”

She also has a recurring theme of horses and sweeping out the garbage into a trash bag or sometimes into a pile, depending on who she is talking to. My Grandma Joey is “visiting her” regularly, despite the fact that my Grandma has been dead for almost 6 years now. My great grandma T left the reservation to come lay hands on my mom (an ominous act if ever there was one), but my mother didn’t recognize her and became agitated and uncomfortable with the presence of my Uncle Horse.

This goes on since the morning  after Turkey Day…no change for better or worse although I can read between the lines that this is likely the wrap up for the bitter end of my mom’s fight with Cancer.

Clingy.

When you aren’t available, the world feels hollow.
I can only pray to nobody and nothing that you haven’t left me behind yet.
After all these years, no grip of mine is tighter than this desperate clinging to you.