Its 1215pm. Im taking my 20min lunch break in my car. Lunch means zoning out. It means thawing out in the glorious Florida sunshine after 5hours in a freezing cave. Something about the heat is seductive. Some ladies get frisky with booze but for me, its the sun. Heating me up literally. Now it is 1218pm and I am horny as f*ck! Debating on keeping a mini vibrator in my glove box. I said “box” huh huh!
Do you ever look at Facebook and see posts from a bunch of your friends out having fun together on a Saturday night and wonder why you werent invited? I wanted to be out tonight. I tossed ideas around, put out feelers but no takers. So it’s 10:30 and I’m home alone. Still dressed to go out but once the boots come off, it’s all over. Feeling so damned sorry for myself, I should probably just go to bed. I was supposed to be in the smokey mountains this weekend with the kin but mother canceled at the last minute. She just didnt have it in her. This is a bad time of year for all of us. Her father died a year ago this past Monday and October was when her husband, my dad, began to get sick. Three days after his 45th birthday on 24 November, he had a seizure and slipped into a coma. A month later, just before Christmas, he was gone. This time of year also marks the end of every major relationship Ive ever been in Sept is the downward spiral and by December, I was either divorced or nursing my wounds from an ugly betrayal. Four. No, five times. I don’t like the holidays anymore. It means death of people I loved, physically or emotionally. And I’ve never been kissed at midnight on New Years Eve. Never.
He’s home and writing to me daily but we only talk about his kids. In ten days and he hasnt mentioned his wife or the fact that he will be within a few hours drive of me in the next week or two. I told myself that I wasnt going to bring either topic up again. I dont need to hear about how awkward the sex is or her latest meltdown. The only thing I know is that he is waking up next to her. And if he wants to see me, he will have to ask. I wont beg. And if he doesnt…well, then I guess there is my answer. The last time we were together, I was content and I meant it when I said that I had no expectations except that we stay in touch and remain friends. My expectations were low but my hopes were high. Are still high. He does nothing to feed my hopes except continue to write me and refuse to tell me to go away. I confided in a friend that I had drawn a line in the sand: If he doesnt ask to see me while he’s near, then I will cut him off. My friend says “Good for you, drawing that line in the sand”. The problem with lines in the sand is the water. Tears roll in like a tide that blur and erase those lines that I draw.
But hey, I’m still trying to get out there and meet someone else! Except that the only guys who show interest have handles like “BigMeat”, “FitYoungEuropean” and “Papi4U”. And if any of their photos include them flexing shirtless in the bathroom mirror or holding a fish then it gets deleted without reading. So that’s 99% of them. The Marine Biologist who also happened to be a traveling performer at Renn Fests sounded promising until I saw the glorious mullet.
It’s a new moon. I have everything I need for a banishing ritual but my head and heart are not in the right place for it. It’s a catch 22: rituals are supposed to be cathartic, relaxing. But you need to relax and focus in order to conduct the ritual. So what? I take a half a xanax in order to relax enough so that I can perform a ritual which should help me relax? That’s why I’ve never been able to pass a polygraph either. That hamster in my head never stops running on that wheel. “Just dont think about anything”, he says. I imagine that must be what peace feels like. To be able to flip a switch in your brain.
My mother and I need to be in the mountains right now. Healing in the crisp air and changing leaves.
That’s it. The boots are coming off…
Hey look, Ma! A blog that doesn’t revolve around loneliness and vibrators! Oh don’t worry. That’s still on tap.
Let’s discuss “The Strain”:
The three book series by Guillermo del Toro and Chuck Hogan was –if not THE scariest—certainly ‘up there’ in terms of scare factor—stories I have ever read. And this is coming from an old-school Koontz fan. To date, World War Z by Max Brooks is still my favorite book. Not in just in terms of scary but if you take out the Z-factor, it may be the best post-war documentary I have ever read. Very well written. The Strain Series is the vampire equivalent of the “Zed” apocalypse. And these aren’t vampires like you think you know vampires. During a poll on a friend’s radio show, she asked us to name the most frightening fictional character: Without hesitation, I replied “Sardu”. The ‘youngest’ of the Ancients- The Master- (and I”ll stop here lest I give anything away) is the most terrifying creature my imagination could put on parade. And FX turned him into a fish.
Wait, let me back up. When I first read that The Strain was being made into a tv show, I cringed. Then I read that both of the authors would be producers. I was instantly relieved because wasnt that a guarantee that the series would follow the books?? Del Toro further promised “Three books, three seasons”. That the show would be produced by FX and aired after ‘safehaven’ (10pm) encouraged me further. Who better to produce a show full of horrifying creatures than a channel dedicated to special effects?
I have now watched the entire first season and I can’t stay mum about my disappointment any longer. A FISH?? They turned the creature of my nightmares into a flying burlap sack with a fish face!! And the casting…knowing the plot going into it and I still found myself wishing Annoying Nora, Can’t Act Zack, and Please Put A Pillow Over Mom’s Face would get sucked dry. Does Nora EVER stop crying? I swear, she was not that big of a pussy in the books. And please tell me the kid with the bowl cut who shows the same emotional reaction whether he’s eating birthday cake or watching his stepdad get his head hacked off with a shovel…please tell me the teenage version of Zack will be better cast? And I know it was too much to expect but I’m certain that the authors wrote the role of Bolivar with Marilyn Manson in mind. Couldnt they have at least asked him if he wanted to play the part? And what is with The Geico Gecko Has A More Authentic British Accent Chick? Not value added. Now Gus I like. Its easy to play a gangstah hoodrat badass but when he finds his mom and breaks dow , I believed it.Sertrakian (the Old, not the Young) doesnt irritate me too much and I think they got something right when they cast Fet but I’m having a hard time getting past the fact that the man looks like the rodents he catches. It’s the teeth.
Throughout the first season, I kept thinking “Damn, I wish they would have sold this to AMC instead”. Between the bad acting and the joke that is a channel which hangs it moniker on the boast that it is the bloody cherry on top of a special effects Sunday… it was worse than a SyFy movie! At least AMC knows how to do ‘scary’! Can the authors/producers just break up with FX now and salvage the last two seasons with a network that can do better than a giant plastic phallus and a potato sack?
And finally…and I wont go into great detail for those of you who have not read the books and genuinely enjoy the series thus far…the discrepancies between the story line of the books v the show are starting to mount. Those of you who read the books know what I mean. Vampires speak telepathically. Their faces do not peel back (but they are certainly gross to behold!) . They do not lurch around and ‘vomit’ stingers the size of elephant trunks. The Master was not responsible for Sertrakian’s hands being crushed nor does he grant Ol’ 101 Kidney Transplants the gift of eternal ‘life’. Perhaps all minor detours of little consequence in the end until Nora’s senile mother gets sucked dry on the sofa by a wanna-be Manson. No, no, no, no, NO! The capture and death of Nora’s mother is a powerful, important part of the second book! Okay spoiler alert for those of you who still want an element of surprise when you read the books. Stop right now:
In the New World Order, there is no room for the elderly. They are a burden and nuisance which is quickly eradicated. The fact that Nora was able to hide her mother for as long as she did in the books was impressive but alas, her mother makes a scene in public which leads to them both being captured and shipped off to one of the Farms. And in a rare, touching moment of lucidity, her mother knows they are about to die and comforts her daughter. Nora’s mother is taken away and later…skipping details that will further spoil the book…Nora enters one the rooms where people are exsanguinated to feed the populace and then their skin is flayed off their bones…finds what is left of her mother.
Oh, would that be too graphic to depict on late-night TV? The show where people are brutally gutted by zombies every week is the most popular TV series in the US but that’s okay, FX, you just stick with ‘tater sacks and fish face.
Anybody else who gives a Fet’s Rat Face Ass, Read the books.
You shared your stories and I shared mine. Sadly, so similar, us sisters. If we lived closer, we might form our own group where we meet, drink, cry, and hold hands while we base jump without chutes.
No, that’s not positive thought. If you want someone to remind you of what you are worth, to encourage you to walk away from those who don’t want to stay, read Trent Shelton. Or TD Jakes. “The Way of Serenity” by Father Jonathan Morris just arrived in the mail today; I’ll let you know once I’ve finished if it helped.
What he doesn’t say is louder than what he does. What he doesn’t say is “Wait for me”, “Come see me”, “I love you too”. Nor does he say “I don’t have time for you”, “I’ve decided not to leave my crazy wife”, “I changed my mind. Fuck off.” So I wait for him to come around but still go on dates. Lots of dates. Even decided to try out the old adage ‘The fastest way to get over someone is to get under someone else” but all that left me with was a hang-over and a yeast infection. Next day, I’m stalling at the drugstore, waiting for a female clerk or when there is none, I stock up on all sorts of shit I don’t need in attempt to hide the Monistat from the guy at the check out counter. Ever do that?
My mind invites the ghosts. He tried so hard in the beginning but he was always putting his foot in his mouth. Like the time he said “My wife is a 28 year old version of you” and I slowly turned to glare at him. Realizing his faux pas, he back-pedals “I mean, you’re what? 29…” I cut him off “You WISH your wife was like me.” At least that much is still true, I think.
If I’m repeating myself, excuse me. Skip ahead.
She got to play the loving, devoted wife, meeting him at the airport despite telling him that she visited two divorce attorneys last week. She will never leave him. She’s mentally ill but she’s not stupid. She manipulates: I’ll leave you. I’m miserable. Stay home and take care of me. If he follows through (and I’m convinced he wont. Not yet anyway. And not for me) and tells her he wants a divorce, she will don her Batshit Crazy Woman suit, threaten to kill herself (again) and guilt him into sticking around on the pretense of “saving her”.
“You accepted less because you thought ‘a little’ was better than nothing.” ~Trent Shelton
I saw a bird get clipped by a truck today and while I sped up, trying to reach it in time, another vehicle got there first and finished the job. I sobbed for an hour. Over a dead pigeon.
THere are reasons to be happy. For instance, they make Sour Patch gum now.
But whatever you do, don’t watch “The Duchess”. I like period flicks so I thought it was a safe bet on Netflix. Holy christonacracker, if I wasn’t suicidal before watching that movie, I was ready to eat a muzzle afterwards. Note to self: IMDB the spoilers of every movie before hitting ‘play’.
Okay, quick pick me up! Watch Taylor Swift crawl the through “Twerking Tunnel” on her latest video. Or youtube videos of Garfunkel and Oates. Watch two of the sweetest sopranos crawl out of a giant inflatable vagina or sing along to the chorus of “The Loophole”. Feel better?
Other positives: I’m finally down to my “Army doesn’t have to tape me” weight thanks to the misery of tuck and hold, lift and freeze, tiny up, tuck hold… IHateItIHateItIHateItIHateIt but it’s effective. I’m not ScarJo Black Widow yet but I think I’m finally ready to face my Army Reserve Career Counselor now. Even with the purple hair.
It’s a full moon. He is home. I wonder if he will look up and think of me. I wonder if we will still be on speaking terms a month from now.
Time to blend, anoint, burn and pray.