Archive: Deafkitties
I’ll never forget this thing I heard about Ecstasy once. I think it was a line from a movie, or maybe a book or off the TV but the guy said, “Each time you do E it’s like taking one ice cream scoop out of your brain.” I wondered if it was true? I still wonder. It seems possible. And the more I think about it, the more I’m certain it was from a movie and I’d probably be embarrassed to find out what movie it was I was watching but, why would they say something like that and not check the internet to make sure it was true first? Or perhaps that was the irony in it. What the fuck am I saying. Of course it’s not true. I’ve done E like five or six times and I still have all of my brain.
I bought Monopoly for nine dollars yesterday. I got it in my head that once I played it, all the fun I had as a kid being the dog or the top hat and loading Baltic Avenue up with those red plastic hotels would come rushing back. I haven’t gotten to find out yet.
Thursday I woke up at five am with a terrible feeling in my stomach. I sat up, touched the skin above my belly button and frowned. I know this feeling, I thought. I went to the bathroom and sat down to pee. I sat for a while, hoping the nausea would fade. I tried laying back down and then realized the sick feeling was indeed intensifying and oh god, don’t let this be what I think it is. I am going to throw up.
In fact, I threw up for eight hours from both ends of my body. The kind of cookie tossing that leaves your eyeballs pounding, clinging to your sockets for fear of breaching the contract they hold with your face. I was sweating and disoriented, and passed out on my bedroom floor because I couldn’t find the energy to move three feet in any direction.
Monday approached me. She clearly thought I had chosen to spend the day as her life-sized body pillow. She made a thousand biscuits along my back and then sniffed at my hair, grazing my cheek with her paw. Brrrraw? She cooed. “Uhhhhhnn,” I replied.
Thankfully, I have people in my life. People who’ll cover you with a second blanket and buy you more toilet paper and turn in your very first college paper that’s due at the exact same time you’re actually, dramatically, thinking it will be your last. Although now I wish I could have changed it’s title to something other than “Paws and Effect”.
IF IM ALREADY DEAD
THEN BREAK ALL MY MIRRORS
FOLLOW THE TRAIL OF INK
TO THE SUITCASE OF INSTANT RELATIVES
PRESS YOUR PAWS AGAINST THE GLASS
WHERE THE WATER YOUR HEAD PRODUCED LANDED.
I woke up scared today. Things are piling on top of each other and seeping into my dreams. The last three nights I’ve had insanely wild sleep, and I originally blamed it on the full moon. Then I blamed it on the stones I’d placed under my pillow. Now I think it’s just real life.
My last day of work is December 18th. This morning I witnessed a screaming match between my boss’ wife and our HR lady. Afterward she sped off in her Blazer, only to return 20 minutes later and whisper under her breath “I just slammed two bloody mary’s!” before starting a second fight with the boss. I was humored, but unnerved knowing the serious dysfunction of this place will continue long after I’m gone.
My health insurance is up at the end of this month if I don’t continue to pay for it through COBRA, which would be $300 a month. I am having a ‘procedure’ done next Thursday and depending on how that goes….I have a feeling. I have a feeling I am going to rack up a giant medical tab. But what is there to do? I’m not going to give up school and keep working this shit job just so I have health insurance.
I am imagining the knots of stress twisting in my chest. The dreams have left me with different sensations: disgust, fear, ambition, fascination. When I woke I was an hour late for work, and the morning light radiated a ginger color across my bedroom floor. I’m still scared.
MALPHAS
In medieval demonology Malphas was the grand president of hell. Malphas appeared in the form of a crow as well as a human being. He often double crossed his devotees and he spoke with a hoarse voice. Malphas had forty legions of devils at his command.
TENGU
The Tengu is a boastful winged demonic spirit. It may be completely bird like or partial human with a long nose, wings and the claws of a giant eagle. The Tengu is often associated with swordsmanship in Japanese mythology. It was said that the best martial arts teachers in the world were all tengu shapeshifters.
KERES
In Greek Mythology the Keres was a female black winged death spirit that had huge white teeth and pointed talons. They tore apart corpses and drank the blood of those wounded and dead. The Keres is the personification of death that is always present at scenes of battle.
HARPIES
In Greek Mythology Harpies were winged creatures which had bodies of vultures and the heads of women. They stole the bodies of the dead, gave off a bad smell and contaminated the food.
Yesterday I had to attend an all day class on how to better our Service Technician Department. Going in, I knew that it would be painful. I woke up at 6:30 am, last night’s wine stagnant in my limbs. I toddled to the bathroom and pushed the button above the sink for light. Then I stared at myself in the mirror for a minute. “Fuuuuuck,” I said slowly. Sucking it up as I have done so many mornings before this one, I made my way to get coffee and a bagel for the road.
As I drove I decided the only way I was going to make it through the day was to pay as much attention as possible, so that my mind had no choice but to force the words into my hand through the pen to the paper. I’ve learned the only way to make these situations pass quickly is to fully engage them. This was about the time I spotted a stray dog digging through garbage behind Pizza A Go Go. I contemplated stopping…what if this is someone’s lost dog?? What if it were me? I came to the stop light and decided I couldn’t let him get away. Parked, I walked around the side of the lot. There he was taking a giant dump, minding his own business much like I probably should have been doing.
I knelt down about ten feet from him. “Puppppyyy? Come here!” The dog bared his teeth and growled at me. I stood up. “Be nice….” My voice trailed off as he lunged forward. That guy chased me all the way down the alley back to my car. I guess some dogs don’t want to be had.
8:15 AM. I am lost in Tigard. I considered going home, back to my warm bed and Monday Meow curled up at the foot of it. Instead I answer the unknown number calling my cell phone. “Erin? It’s Colin, your _____ rep. Are you lost? Are you alright?” No. Can you tell me where I am?
Here I am. I’m settled in the corner on a hard plastic chair, with a notepad and my feet propped up. To my right sit about 50 men, filling the room with bad breath and hat hair. An overhead projector looms in front of us, manned by a small bald fellow in a bright red button-down.
About 45 minutes in I decided to keep a tally of how many times my mind wandered off, which was eleven times before twelve, and nine times from noon to three o’clock. The speaker touched on a broad range of topics including geography, diet issues, his marriage and even our solar system. And I quote:
“I had plenty of people tell me I couldn’t play college baseball. They were wrong.”
“My wife’s favorite feature on the Pro9K is the back light.” (Chortling) Making fun of your wife is cool, right? Enabling her to be so fucking uninformed that she can’t even run her own thermostat makes for one helluva industry joke, as long as it looks pretty.
“We call each other hunter-killers. We laugh all the time together.” Wait, what?
“Atkins is the men’s diet. You’ll probably notice I won’t be eating any of that pizza for lunch. I control my diet more than most people in the world.” You can believe the rest of us ate the shit out of that ‘za.
“White men CAN jump.” = (
“My driveway is exposed aggregate concrete? Do you know what that means for me?” Nobody did.
“You guys are the center of the universe…I mean isn’t Nike here?”
“Who here drinks Starbucks?” (silence) “The secret to affording a $5 cup of coffee is to have someone else buy it for you. TRUE OR FALSE?” This was about the time I began tallying how many times he asked true or false. We reached 19 before the lunch break, and then I gave up.
“The average home where I live, in Brentwood Tennessee, the average home is $400 grand with 2 refrigerators. We golf.” Gross.
By 3pm I was cooked. The prescription painkillers had worn off and I didn’t pick up when my boss called. Earlier in the day I had felt a twinge of guilt for attending this expensive class, knowing I will soon embark on a new endeavor and leave his Popsicle stand in the dust. But as I beelined it for the door I realized if anything, those last seven hours reiterated the fact that my exit plan has been a long time coming.
If it winds around the rock
it is gray paper mache
if it lays its white cotton body
in the pockets at the top
it is snow
if it speeds to the earth
coming instead of going
it is rain
if it somersaults
choreographed for children
it is the sea
if it hangs on your every word
it is me.
Total satisfaction is this new thing going on with me. It’s a thing, alright. I imagine that I float up from my body and tie a string from my left wrist to my body’s left wrist and then glide along above myself as I live the day, observing. And this whole time I’m bobbing in the air just a few feet above myself I am coming from a new clear perspective, physically and metaphorically. It’s my latest approach to life and so far it is really treating me fucking right.
Karen and I had nice conversation over sweet potato burritos the other night, about how our friends are a great group of people that mean well and aren’t cruelly inclined. I think those magnificent people combined with my newfound positivity are laying some pretty steadfast groundwork for the years to come. There isn’t a person in my life that I can imagine being without, and up until recently I’ve always felt quite the opposite. To the wolfpack, I love you guys.
I hate that the thing you are working on won’t be great until you’re gone.
I was out of breath from biking, but more dizzy than anything. The bacon and latkes for breakfast felt as if they were sliding into my legs. Alex and I were late, and I tripped over the projector cord trying to squeeze into an aisle seat.
I looked around the room, feeling intimidated by the large group. It was mostly women and teenagers, aside from the serious metal head to my right. I stared at him, wondering what his dog was like. This guy must have a dog. He also had a neck tattoo and long ratted hair. I spaced out on his shirt for a moment and then forced myself to focus on what was being said.
Five hours later, Jerry was leading my group through the inner halls of the Dog Pods. He kept repeating himself and I was agitated. He showed us how to clean out the kennels and scoop the mess into a giant flushing hole. He spoke of the proper way to get a dog out of their kennel and leash them, and the danger of not latching gates behind us. As we walked I spotted Kimmy. I remembered her from the website as one of The Great Eight; the eight dogs at OHS that have been there the longest.
She was lovely. One blue eye, one brown, sweet faced and complete with a bright scarf knotted around her neck. There were notes written by her caretakers tacked to the front of her pen, all stating how amazing she was. I drew closer and peered over the gate. She was calm and held my gaze. Her eyes were peaceful and they searched mine, seemingly asking me why she was there and if she had a chance. A lump welled in my throat, and we sat like that for a few minutes studying each other. I imagined what her life was like before she got there. I wondered how she could still be up for adoption since June, and what her previous owner had said to her upon giving her up. Did they apologize? Did they pat her head and tell her she would be better off? Or did they simply tire of her?
Kimmy contemplated me for a bit longer, all the while her expression hopeful. I didn’t need Jerry anymore to remind me why I was there.
Today when I wrote this I went to OHS’ website to find her on the adoption page but she is gone. It’s my turn to be hopeful.
You have made it through my darkest hour more than once. Sit at your desk still drunk from the night before, look down at your hands and turn them face up and stare at the lines that tell a story you don’t know how to read. Place your forehead in those palms and use your brain to break down the next eight hours into the smallest possible fractures of time so they won’t seem so drawn out.
Forget about the woman that cut you off twice this morning on the way to work and how fiercely you gritted your teeth and considered, for longer than you’d like to admit, considered stomping the gas and ramming the shit out of her tiny car. You will shake it off. You feel guilty now for the hatred and you are surprised by how it boiled up inside of you so quickly, but you allow yourself that feeling.
You want the afternoon to arrive when everyone else will leave except Randle down the hall, and the two of you will watch Youtube videos and drink cherry cola and put your arms behind your heads in relaxing poses.
Randle will stretch his bum leg and talk about what the tides will be like on his fishing trip tomorrow. He will ask you when the last time you went fishing was, and you will reply the same you always do because the answer hasn’t changed since 1999. You will pretend not to notice the hole in his sweatpants because your outfit has a hole in it too, and it is, after all, Friday.
But the afternoon is still two hours away, so for now write a list for the coming months. Eat less hot sauce, order Colorado Bulldogs, stretch when you are lying down and remember to be kind. When the list is finished you will fold it in half and place it deep in your wallet, knowing the best part of forgetting it will be finding it again.
Then you decide to write some more, only this time you type the words on the screen and let them fall from your finger tips without care knowing spell check is polishing each one. The first words come together to form a sentence that reads: You have made it through my darkest hour more than once.
