The Daily {W}rite March 2019 wk o4

A long but very fun day. Went to see Us and yes, I think it's pretty damn good! I need to see it again before I write a review on it. Oh, speaking of reviews I got about  five to write for this year including one for Us. Let's see, tomorrow I start a review for Captain Marvel, then one for Glass, Happy Death Day 2U, and Alita: Battle Angel. Yep that's five! Better get started on it pretty fast.

You know I have a temper, right? I mean it's no big surprise, right? If you know me at all, you know I sometimes  fly into a rage. And when I get into that thunderous disposition, I just gotta get away from everybody until it subsides, it's sort of like an emotional tsunami. There's no stopping it until it stops itself. More tomorrow.

Sunday, March 24, 2o19

Ugh! Been a couple of days since I got the chance to add an entry to The Daily {W}rite. Oh, I was talking about my anger issues. Tonight, David and I stopped at Braum's for ice cream after grocery shopping. I know, it's not good for me, ice cream. But once a week?  Anyway, I ordered a strawberry malt from the girl behind the counter:

Me: Strawberry malt, please.
Girl: A what?
Me: A strawberry malt.
Girl: You mean a shake?
ME: No, I mean a strawberry malt! Strawberry malt!
Girl: Hang on a minute.
                (Girl goes to girl  #2 and the talk. Unintelligible.)
Girl: (to Me) What size?
Me: What size malt?
Girl: Yes.
Me: Large will be fine.

So, that may not sound like much but I was so angry with this poor girl who, I found out, was fresh on the job, first day. And I know that she could tell I was getting angry as we talked. And I could feel myself just getting madder and madder at her for working at Braum's and NOT knowing what a fuckin' malt was! And now I feel depressed and sad about my "yelling" at her, and me not at any time able to control my anger. I keep trying. I'm reading books, meditating, praying and . . . it's working a bit, I'm able to get out of my anger faster than before but I just want to end it, this repetitive, emotional instability that I always get caught up in.

Monday, March 25, 2o19
I wrote this poem the other day. Not sure I or my readers actually got the meaning of it.

Or Did it?

One pop of thunder
that shook the windows,
made the cats next door
howl like stray dogs. One
pop of thunder and then
a barrage of raindrops
pounding the shit out of
the driveway, stripping
the Bradford pear of its new
buds, smashing the tiny, white
bodies into the asphalt street below.
And then . . . gone . . . as if
it had never rained at all.

Not much to the poem. Pretty straight forward story about a flash-flood like rain that came and went so fast you barely noticed it at all . . . except for the dying flower buds lying in the street. The rain puddles were dried up after no more than a half an hour of warm sunlight . . . all evidence gone . . . as if the rain had never happened.

But when you start to think about poetry, how it always seems to have some sort of subconscious layer of thought that you don't notice  . . . unless you really look for it. So, a simple poem about a sudden rainstorm becomes a poem about that flash of anger I seem to always get into when someone says the wrong words to me, those words that trigger my rage against a life that has a super-human ability to be extremely unfair to me . . . or art least that's what I always seem to talk myself into believing.

11:11pm
My depression, my anger, waves of it tumbling through my head, twisting me into some  . . . thing unrecognizable to the rest of me . . . that part that's sane runs away into the darkness  . . . it doesn't have the strength to battle the insanity.

Tuesday, 26, 2o19

I learned a new world today: ennui. Definition: a gripping listlessness or melancholia caused by boredom; depression. Yeah. that's pretty much how I feel after one of my anger seizures. Not much I can do when one of them hits. I can get away from people and let it just flow through me away from people. The aftermath of one of my "seizures" can be physically debilitating. I just want to crawl up in a ball and just . . . sleep. Ennui is a good word the feeling after one of my "fits." But I've said all this before . . . hacen't I?

Thursday, March 28, 2o19

So, yesterday I talked David into a trip to Target. I needed sweat shirts and for some reason my go to place, Walmart, had very few, I mean very few! But Target was even less impressive. NONE that I could find. What the fuck?! So, on the ride home down Robinson St., and out of the blue David says:
David: I think I'll stop at the 7-Eleven (on Robinson) and buy some lottery tickets.
Me: Hmm . . .
David: The big Powerball Jackpot is $768.4 million dollars!
Me: Ugh . . .
David: I'll give you a million because you're my friend.
Me: Yeah, thanks.
David: Are you mad?
Me: No.
David: I could give you more. I mean I should give you more . . . if I win.
Me: That's okay. A million's fine with me. (as they pass by the 7-Eleven . . . ) Hey aren't you going to stop and buy the Powerball tickets?
David: Nah, I shouldn't waste the money.
Me: (loud) But you promised me a million dollars! What the fuck! (Both laugh) Damn, don't promise me a million bucks and then not get it for me. Always thinking of yourself!

          (Both laugh even harder as David pulls into the 7-Eleven to buy Powerball tickets.)

END PLAY

Saturday, March 30, 2o19

Even though have one more day in this week's blog, the last week of March, I decided to cut it a bit short. Not really cheating because in of the month week always has more days in it. So, instead of ten entries I'll have a total of six. 

As I'm sure you've noticed . . . especially since I always say something about it . . . I'm a bit of a mental case. Seems like a lot of time is spent on my anger "seizure," more  than most people want to hear, I suppose. TMO. Too Much Information. I know what it means. But information, good info, is something worth having. Besides, this blog is mostly for me to write about my frustrations, my joy, my love fore life . . . Yeah, I know. There doesn't seem to be a lot of that floating through my blog entries, but it really is there. Even in my darkest moments . . . I'm still happy to be alive. I feel such joy when I realize I'm still on this breathing plane of existence. I may not always show it. But it is there. Anyway, another month down and one more to go before my 71st birthday. {smiles}