I've been feeling wretchedly misanthropic for the last couple of days and I think I need to crawl under the porch for awhile.
The things that I usually tolerate with a grin and a giggle and bounce are now the things that bug the shit out of me/enrage me/make me want to cry.
I hate everyone right now and myself most of all.
There's no music in my soul. Believe me, I've been listening. It ain't there. Not even that single cello playing plainsong to
accompany my blue mood. Just dead air. I couldn't even get my guitar tuned last night. Gave up after a half hour of trying. Who knows, maybe it was in tune, and I wonder if I HEAR things differently when I feel this glum. As if what I hear is merely a
reflection of my mood. Everything was jangly and tuneless.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. I am crabby beyond belief. YOU go several nights running with your sleep interrupted by a drug-
addled crackhead welfare-sucking asshole and see what YOUR temperament looks like.
Then, a woman I work with looked at my new haircut (which I love, thank you Roni, for keeping me stylish and current) and pronounced it (AND I quote), "ummmm...interesting." I beg your pardon? That sounds to me like women-who-hate-other-women-bitch-speak for "ugly." You know, if you're going to be insulting, be ballsy. Do it right out where everyone can see it, put it in my face, don't give me this passive-aggressive bullshit. And frankly, if we're going to sling style insults, this one might just want to step off. I mean, I can take insults about my appearance from someone who's dead-on fashionable or
stylish, but from a caftan-wearing blob with no style to speak of, dyed orange hair and goat hairs on her chinny-chin-chin? Fuck you. Hurt my feelings, will you? Hmph.
I just needed to unload that.
Now I'm going under the porch for a few days.
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