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Monday, Jul. 15, 2002 / 8:49 p.m. ~No, I Don't NEED to Write Multiple Entries~ "Rocky Horror Picture Show" is on in the next room. Meatloaf just entered the scene. I'm not watching, but I like to listen to the soundtrack. My sister in law had the album, used to play it and sing along. She knew all the lyrics by heart. I was thinking about the package today, at work. For some reason, while I was in the bathroom at work, it popped in my head that I had a present in that package, there is a gift for me, a gift! And I wanted it. Like a child at Christmas, I wanted at least to peek inside. I wanted to come home and yank it from its hiding place in my closet, rip it open and see what's inside. It occurred to me I might like it, whatever it is. Thankfully the feeling went away. Poor, poor Weetabix. First Trouble, now her, having to put an animal to sleep. Not just "an animal", but a beloved friend, a friend in pain, suffering. Both women wrote of the experience, I feel so much empathy, I've been there, and I know I'll have to go through it again. Animals don't live very long... unless they're crocodiles. Maybe I should get a croc or two? I'll wait until N and G have lived out their lives, then I'll get a cuddly croc or two. N and G......I can't bear the concept of their demise. It's too much to even consider. Let me just say I hope I have some sort of support network around me then because I'll be suicidal, surely. Well, assuming one goes before the other, no, I'll be strong for the surviving girl, but, I don't know, I've been through too much death in my life. I alluded to some big secret regarding my brother, the other day, talking to Mark on the phone. And I'd like to let it out, it would appear. My horoscope for the week talks about repressing something and needing to let it out. That's at Cainer.com - lots of links in this entry! - and tomorrow's horoscope is all about seeing someone get what is coming to him/her, but not taking pleasure in seeing it, just not trying to help him/her out of it..... Intriguing. I love Cainer's 'scopes. Oh, right, the secret, well, it's funny, but I used to tell people all the time. Every time I started seeing someone new I'd tell him the whole story, as I know it, but it made my lovers dislike my brother, and I would want us all to hang out together, be friends, so that never worked. I guess I learned from that lesson. Now it's a moot point, but I should have some respect since this is so public a forum. Intrigued? After I read Weetabix' painful entry from today, after I disassociated myself from her pain, because I know it too well, and I chose not to feel it with her, but to let her know I do know what it feels like and I am so sorry she has to feel it too, I read a bit of her diary, which I don't normally do. The woman has over 370 people linking her as a favorite!!! How insane is that? Of course some of those diaries are dead diaries, but still. And one dead diary belongs to Crawdad, a man who used to read my diary a while ago, so I clicked on his to see how he is......... his last entry is 9/10/2001. How weird is that? Did he lose someone that day? Did he die? Is he okay??? Freaked me out to see that. He used to write me email. And her previous entry was LONG, like longer than anything I think I've written. 370something people read what she writes, and she writes and writes and writes??? Wow. I'm impressed. And I thought I wrote too much in here sometimes. I have random thoughts going through my head, in a jumble. The veins are bulging on my hands, and I like the way it looks, but I hate the way it feels. My mom's hands looked like this, but they were longer, and she wore a lot of rings. She gesticulated wildly when she talked, a cigarette always in one of those hands. I can see her talking, but I think I'm just seeing one particular photo of her on the phone. She's wearing one of her party dresses, her hair is curled and black, she's at the kitchen table, the green phone pressed to her ear, her hand waving about, and I can remember listening to her. Always listening. More than her listening to me. That I don't remember. Why the sudden nostalgia? I cleaned my bathtub yesterday. I hadn't taken a bath in a while because there was some mildew around the drain, and the overflow outlet, and along the shower curtain. It's all gone now, and I have some Patchouli 'Kiss My Face' shower gel I want to pour into a bath for myself. I want to soak, immerse myself. Reminds me of swimming and how it's been years. There is a pool here, but I want to stay away from so much chlorine, and kid urine, and voyeurs. I want to go to a lake, or a river. I want to lie on a dock at dusk. Dammit, I miss being outside. I want to buy fresh fruit from a roadside vendor, and sit on a rocky hill to eat it. Watch the fireflies come out at night. Cabin fever? In the Summer? I'm in the City. It's smog and cars and cars and smog and traffic and concrete and asphalt and it's hot, hot, hot, hazy and humid. I need to get away. Makes me think of Dahlonega with Mark. That was nice, but we were inside watching films. Which was nice, but..... I'll figure it all out, I always do. I do what is necessary, and if it's necessary for me to get out and about I will. I'd like to sign up for a canoe trip with a group. I think I should have that bath now. And I should give N and G extra hugs, extra kisses, tell them how much I love them (like I don't do that all day every day anyway!), because they're alive and healthy and I don't know how I'd live without them. Chelsea, rest in peace. Along with the Freakshow, and Kitty, Rocco, Steve, Angel, Lefty, Stanley, Missifous.....poor, poor Missifous, Tuffy, Honeybear, Cholmondeley, Claudette (OH, GOD, that's a repressed memory, my mom had her put to sleep and lied to me about it....killed her because she was shitting and pissing on our carpeting while we were at school/work - good reason, huh? Mom, the Catholic, the staunch believer in euthanasia as answer to pet 'problems'). I hope there is a heaven for cats, and dogs. I hope there's a heaven for all of us. Somewhere. (Is this where we break into "Somewhere" from "West Side Story"??? "There's a place for us.... somewhere!!!") And we should hope my mom is not rotting in some hell, or writhing in eternal agony for the murder of so many animals. Was she really helping them? Helping us? Claudette was my girl. See? Repressed. That was way down, and I'm pushing it back there, it's better there. Cost of the War in Iraq
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