Did my 25 minutes on the cushion tonight, but I can't say I enjoyed it.
I wonder why I can talk so much more freely about death than I can life. I know I became less afraid of death after being with my father when he died ten years ago.
And life... well, my life is like an off-brand adhesive bandage you've had on for a couple of days. It hasn't fallen completely apart yet, but it's peeling back around the edges, and the gauze in the middle is starting to unravel. It still works, but it's just kind of worn out and nasty looking.
There's a young woman who comes to the coffee shop who is totally high on life. She's young, she's beautiful, she sings, she has hyperanimated facial expressions, she's been Miss Warr Acres Congeniality or something. She's cheerful, friendly and optimistic. She means well, but she's like two pounds of divinity candy. She's an unrealized buddha, but she makes my teeth hurt.
I sing — badly, have no facial expressions except 'awake' and 'not awake', and I've been on TV. I'm like two pints of milk of magnesia. But I can mostly stand myself.
4 comments:
But the burning question is, which flavor of Milk of Magnesia are you? Original or Cherry?...or does that go without saying?
:::And life... well, my life is like an off-brand adhesive bandage you've had on for a couple of days.:::
Also, it's not "ouchless."
Original. Like a mouthful of liquid chalk.
Actually, it is pretty 'ouchless' these days. I think I'm too apathetic to feel pain.
Post a Comment