I’ sorry, what?
The following was written while I was in Napa spending time with my mom. It was just after my grandfather’s passing, and we spent many nights drinking lots of wine and eating cheese and pate. It’s funny, because reading it now, I can see where I was in my drunken prime, and then where I gave up entirely lol. It’s too bad, now I’ll never know what it could’ve turned into.
I fall getting onto ski lifts, and tumble up the stairs. I once put my shoes on the wrong feet, and placed a carton of milk in the microwave. I’m never really all there – the world is too amazing of a place for that, and my mind likes the attention.
I’m a diamond that still thinks its coal. Or a piece of coal that doesn’t think its capable of becoming a diamond. But coal’s not so bad right? I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like a good BBQ.
I am an emotional wreck, but nothing a skilled mechanic or surgeon or JesusBuddhaJah can’t fix. I feel all the feelings. I cry over Superbowl commercials, and get angry at people who cut in line for the train. But don’t hug me, we ain’t cool like that. Otherwise, you would know I’m not as affectionate as one would think.
I am absolutely fearful of death (get it away from me!). Yet I kiss the edges of cliffs, let go and close my eyes on the back of motorcycles, and jump into oceans without knowing how to swim. My next death defying trick? Falling in love.
As a little girl, my mom dressed me in frilly dresses and gigantic bows. Of course I wore them, I was too young to realize they were annoying. But I’d always get in trouble for coming home with dirty stockings and scuffed up Mary-Janes. They’re the best for playing kickball.
Remember how I said I was scared of death? I don’t cry at funerals. I seem to take death pretty well. Is that weird? I’m pretty sure it is.
Speaking of things that are fucked up … I’m a disaster. A beautiful one I like to pretend, but you better believe I clean up real nice.
Also, there is no point to this post. I’m drunk off a $240 bottle of wine that I got for free, HOLLA!