I think better in the shower.
No, really. It's true. If I could, I'd probably be in there right now, hacking away at these keys, every now and then stopping to wipe the screen. Or better yet, I'd hook up some sort of intricate monitor wiper system. Or maybe I'd just bring the computer in there and use an umbrella.
Nah.
Umbrellas are for punks.
I know. You're thinking, "Meredith, this is the second post you've written today! What gives?" (Yup. Those were the exact words you used just now in your head. No matter that the phrase "what gives" is something that's been tossed out with the syndicated episodes of "Night Court." You used it, and you know who you are.) So, the answer, of course, is I do. I give. I give and give and give and am now writing a completely unprecedented second post to the blog for today, April 16.
Some days you just feel IT. I'm not sure what IT is, but IT'S there. Matt would call it "The Great Unspoken." (I'm always tempted to ask him what The Great Unspoken says, but I know better. IT'S The Great Unspoken. IT doesn't speak. IT'S unspoken.) My mother would call IT "a bad day." I beg to differ. (Please! Please? Let me differ!? Aw c'mon! I wanna differ!) IT can't be a bad day. Bad days don't pull you out of yourself just to watch yourself -- analyze yourself -- while you do something that you're already doing.
Confused yet?
Yeah. Me too.
The thing is, it's not a bad day. IT'S not The Great Unspoken, otherwise I wouldn't be writing about it. Whatever it is, though, it makes me want to go crazy. Tempt fate. Step on some cracks. Spill some salt. Go swimming less than 30 minutes after eating.
Once I remember Matt doing some crazy dance outside of a Blockbuster. I never knew why he did it. He was just returning a video tape. And all of a sudden, I looked up and he was dancing. Maybe he was just doing it for my benefit. Maybe he had an itch some place where it would have been impolite to scratch. Maybe he was merely amusing himself. But he danced. He did this nutsy, limbs flailing, eyes gawking, knees bending, Gumby-type of dance. Looking sort of like a monkey.
Yeah.
IT'S kind of like that.
Crazy for feeling so lonely,
Meredith
Saturday, April 16, 2005
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2 comments:
Don't be lonely, Merdie. Loneliness makes you do crazy things, like make a sock puppet, name him Steve and write his biography in which he marries a beautiful trouser sock and they have a pair of baby knee highs. Then they both lose their jobs to a pair of leg warmers and are forced to sell their children to a thief who wears them on his head when he's robbing homes.
Loneliness will make you invent a whole sock world. And your feet get cold.
Which class was it at Vassar that assigned that essay about normality? I just remember that I didn't take it but I wrote one anyway for the hell of it.
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