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Monday, May. 03, 2004 / 8:38 p.m. ~Meatloaves and the Green - It Was a Day~ Norman ran around after her dinner, happy and bouncy and light, and filled with food, and I said, "Hey! No running! You'll puke!", and she laughed at me, and pounced upon her friend Gurdnest. Silly cats. Shhhh, they're sleeping now. All curled up like giant meatloaves. It was a day today. Not a bad day at all. It was slow in the a.m., but I found ways to occupy my time, work-approved methods of time occupying, and they were good, and I yawned and stretched, and ran my fingers through my hair, and showed Jane when I found a silver-y white hair left behind on my chair in my cubicle. "Jane, look, one of my silver-y white hairs fell out and look, it's silver and white and pretty, don't you think?", I asked rhetorically, because I knew she wouldn't agree. Her gray is just starting to show back through, and soon she'll color again, I know this to be true. She tolerated me again today, and I was in her role, and she in mine, and I love when she's feeling crampy and bad because she gets pouty and I get to make her laugh, make her feel better in spite of herself. She was confused, out of sorts, in pain, and I could say, "Yes, I know, I know, I was you last week, I have been there, I have come back around again", and know that I am feeling myself again. I've rediscovered the joys of orgasms and screaming when no one lives downstairs, and not being bloated, and feeling energetic in spite of being very sleep-deprived. And I love having someone to talk to, someone to tell my secrets, and someone who asks, "How is your guy, what's his name...?", and she remembers his online name, his nickname, and she remembers to ask, and I tell her how it is, and she starts to look sad for me, and I say no, it's good, and I have a pen pal and I love his letters, he seems so kind. But I am better, things are going to be okay, this is how it's going to be. And we call each other on the phone, Jane and I, across the cubicle walls, and decide how we'll lie, what little lies we'll tell about how we occupied our day, and how we'll document it all, and we whisper and I feel like such a girl, and I realize I'm better when I'm at work, I'm lonely on weekends sitting here in front of my computer, talking to people who aren't even real. It's the reality that is tangible and feels so good, even when it's bad, I can taste it and touch it and smell it and hear it, it's real, this reality. And people touch me, and they hug at work, they do that, and they seem kind, even when they're not, but there are real faces to look into, eyes that see, and sensations all around. I'll sleep tonight and get up tomorrow to do it again, and it feels right and there is purpose there, and it's structured and I know one minute to the next, and people know my name and say hello to me, and I exist there. Even if I really do not. Today I listened to David Gray's "White Ladder" in my Walkman, twice, and I played a few songs over and over, just because I loved them so much, and I got distracted by loving them and stopped to read lyrics when the computer program slowed to a halt. I relaxed, and slouched in my chair, and spread my legs out wide at the knee until I thought of sex and had to close them. I ate tilapia and roasted vegetables, and the eggplant had such a texture to it, no way to describe, and turkey macaroni, all from the hot bar at Whole Foods, and I stocked up on more garlic stuffed olives, and I have milk now for my coffee, and my rent is paid, and tomorrow is a lunar eclipse, full, in Scorpio, a Full Moon Lunar Eclipse, and it should feel like something to some and nothing to others, but we can step outside to see if we want. The windows are open and it's cool, it's cool for this time of year, and suddenly, for it seems it was sudden, all the trees have leaves, and everything is a million shades of green, and I'm still dizzy. Cost of the War in Iraq
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