friends, roamin's, cuntrymen...

O good dog, o nasty evil god, I pray, defend me from wickedness!

I am now TEH BLEEDING. I used the caps and misspelling because I don't usually get cramps etc. I have a feeling the bloodening was delayed again by red meat deficiency and that wonderful sandwich I had yesterday was my body's signal it could afford to lose all those corpuscles.

In order to make my lie more true, and also to get more facetime with me, Mom has made a tentative appointment for me at LensCrafters next Thursday at 12:40. The eye exam is $49 of which Mom will pay $30. I think I can swing that. I can't pay for the glasses themselves yet, and I'm leery of any deferred-payment deal. Have no way of knowing if future me will be as poor or even more poor than present me. But it'd be nice to have my prescription so I can shop around.

Dog, I hope the 3rd-party poetry critique company takes PayPal. But I'll deal with that next week. I've been squirreling away five and ten bucks here and there into my PayPal account for just such purposes. I haven't even opened the contract from the poetry marketing company. I don't have the bandwidth to deal with it right now, though it is a good and happy-making thing. Even though I have all the forms printed out and assembled in my bag I'll be lucky if I haul my sorry ass into gear to get my tax forms filled out and dropped in the mail by the 15th.

Last night Dad was up sitting at the table coughing and hacking till around 2am. Bout ten minutes after I gave up on sleep and shuffled into the living room to watch a MASH he stopped coughing and went to sleep. So I finished watching "The Colonel's Horse" (Which I hadn't seen before!) and tried to go to sleep again. This time it was my own rage keeping me awake. I had to go send an email to somebody based on something me and Pearl had talked about earlier, I was that pissed it wouldn't leave my mind.

In a way it was more comfortable to be me when I would get panicky and sad when bad things happened. Now I get angry. And an angry human uses whatever weapons they are skilled with, and I've got rhetoric. Tasty, juicy rhetoric. Providing, in the same package, both a warm hug and a hard kick in the ass, as a screamapillar I know once described it.

In another way, though, anger is really nice. It burns cleaner than panic and doesn't leave that sticky-tar residue of helpless guilt along the organs of perception. Once my womb stops feeling all sprained and I chill out a bit and enjoy the lovely spring day I should be able to reach a pretty good mood. I can feel it burgeoning even now under my growliness.

Time to step outside for a smoke.