novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- bottle up and explode, ye surly muppet sometimes i find it amusing to bookend a bad experience like it was an episode of sesame street and there's a moral at the end, arcing over the dilapidated storyline like a rainbow hanging above oscar the grouch's acre-deep trash can. (really, it seemed like a marvelous dungeon. i remember that, watching him disappear for what felt like minutes. and then popping back up again, surly and exasperated. grouchy and fuzzy and new. holding something giant, like a broom, several feet longer than the actual size of his can.) last week's lesson: if you are having a particularly bad time and you decide, in a concussed stupor, to disclose the things you're sad about to friends that you trust (and you do so in an overwhelming manner), you'll probably make them very uncomfortable, and yourself embarrassed. moral: hide in labyrinth trash can/wide apartment/cluttered room/on spacious roof until it passes. concussions heal and everything is easier to explain in hindsight. easier for them to digest. (just call me concussy, it makes me laugh.) 9:32 am - 08.05.04 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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