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Red Lipstick & Green Ink [userpic]

Here's a 'Hullo'..........

December 12th, 2007 (05:23 am)

Going out in the middle of early morning.

I rolled over on the couch, in the house where I have a room I should be sleeping in...

I checked my LJ.

Somebody picked up my tab.
My whole tab, the pictures and everything.

Look, I know you are watching.
I've missed you.

Hours and hours and hours when I was living in that horrid house,
you talked with me. You talked me down. You kept me sane.

Bright light in a dark time.

I can't find you to thank you.


I'll show you.
I'll get better and I will record it here.

I find myself these days rubbing that hole in my head, when I am frustrated......
The middle finger of my right hand fits into that chunk of skull that is still missing.
Warm little divet my finger is drawn to.

I'm supposed to know your real name.
I can't remember it.

I'm okay now,
I made it out.

Thank you.
You bought me another year of words.

I'll show you, I'll show you here
it was worth it.

'Long as the spirit is in me.


Posted by: Gregory Parks (tokenpants)
Posted at: December 12th, 2007 09:33 pm (UTC)
space invader

As much as you say you are not, Ginger, you are still writing. It feels different, though, and I understand that. For me every once in a while my fervor for a woman feels different. Every once in a while when I perform a show that I've done hundreds of times it feels different, but no one else notices. Sometimes I think it's because I'm not wearing a latex nose or am wearing some annoying and expensive powdered makeup instead of greasepaint, but no - that's not it.

Hell, driving felt strange after each of the accidents I've been in. Driving on the freeway in winter still harbors a void inhabited by dark, yet thankfully nonlethal energy and memory.

But I still perform and I am creating now like I haven't before and it's not what I'm paid to do, but I will be. I still drive and get where I'm going.

And you are still writing.

The person who paid your LJ did much better than I. I thought too big and tried too hard, though everyone would rally behind me instead of becoming the pollyanna retard in the corner with the conical cap. Timing is everything and back then, mine was horrible.

You're here, you're bouncing back and you're still writing.

My mom had her head opened and an invader removed, but that invader had gotten rid of some of her brain to make room. She misses things. Words sometimes give her trouble and her frustration and resignation are apparent. In corresponding with you and in talking earlier this fall I did not experience any of that. We spoke of occasional lapses of vocabulary, but I experience those.

I'm not there and I don't get to talk to you often, so I have a small picture. Yet the optimist in me - the part that successfully resists being a cynical thirtysomething Gen Xer who still believes in love and dreams and things that make the Cool Kids puke - believes that it's not as bad as you fear and that it will get better.

The Blue Fairy will come through.

Posted by: Red Lipstick & Green Ink (ginger931)
Posted at: December 13th, 2007 09:06 am (UTC)

A professional Clown
made me pajamas.

Who can't sleep sound
knowing that?

There is much hope left in the world...
and laughter.

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