anonymousblack | out along the edges is always where i burn to be

out along the edges is always where i burn to be

caught (by lack) self-medicating the hunger to a slightly duller needle (but a needle nonetheless)

disenfranchised by hunger

sick to death with hunger

how to make the hunger stop

without making me stop, i mean

i mean, yes. it took me more than an hour to think, perhaps i need to eat. it's part of the fray of it, the hunger, how thought processes are choked to a halt? and then the rage, the body rage, air into rage, water into rage, rage to subatomic particles. there was this moment last autumn when i recognized that i might be causing irreversible psychological damage: with hunger? which is not the thing to think of when you're so painfully hungry that you honestly forget feeding yourself might help the matter: and you forget this for more than a fucking hour. because this breaks you. this has been breaking me. into little tiny pieces, it has. chip, chip, chip. since then i have been eating

and eating

and eating

it doesn't help

or it helps for ten minutes

and then it comes back worse.

how will i survive my own body?

i won't, i know. nobody does.

but i was hoping to at least make it out of my forties.

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I have full confidence in your 40's wish. If only I felt as sure about not getting out of my sixties

i reached a melodramatic crisis point on this last night (oh, hunger enhanced bad moods...) and as such, the tension has dissipated some, but damn. stick around through your sixties, man! don't leave me here alone with these weirdos.

It seems the psychic band aids get bigger and bigger. I spent the entire weekend just staring out the rear window, but I did break for food
I have it on good authority we may be among the weirdest

i still can't write about what happened this weekend. it's gummy chunks of raging silence that press up inside of me every time i sit to do my daily practice, but i can't write about it yet. very obviously all or most of what happened with tuesday's meltdown here, using an ongoing issue to at least get me to cry a little, though i couldn't see that until last night. i've decided to interpret this as an indication that i read what other people are writing about it for now and let whatever is trying to form in response to the tragedy do what it needs to do.

damnit! it was

daisydumont who spilled those beans, i bet, though she's right there in that club with us.

That's funny in that crying sort of funny way
I was counting on you to make some sense of everything because I am just tired of nothing changing, half staff flags,vigils, and I don't want to demean those who take comfort in these things but I feel like a boiled frog that's been in the pot for fifty years and of course I really didn't expect you to make things better. I've lost all perspective and am only tired

Ms Dumont is the bull goose looney of that club

yup. realized that i'm counting on myself for that also, which is why the last few days have been a little clusterfucky - also why i think i might need a few good cries, to release some of the pressure. this unbelievably horrible thing that could have, at minimum, had a slightly lower death toll with a handful of obvious legislation years and years ago, at least if MORE FUCKING PEOPLE WOULD WAKE UP AND GET OVER THEIR NARCISSISM OF FINE DISTINCTIONS, it is not combining at all well with the agony of this presidential race and the brock turner travesty.

i've often read as queer, especially back in those glorious didn't-kill-me-so-i-guess-i'm-stronger school days. now i'm watching my friends who are out and active in the LGBTQ+ community forced, forced, to indefinitely dwell in this supercharged version of that daily, baseline terror around simply being who they have every right to be (except they don't even have the very empty feeling promise that it's going to get a little better if they can just make it to 8th grade graduation) and what they are fearing is being executed without a moment's notice, now even in what was supposed to be a safe space, not being driven to suicide as i nearly was by my lesser "strength-building" school experience. it's quite a boot to the gut.

time to get together this whole off-the-grid witch commune and disappear with everyone i care about, probably. unfortunately i am no longer exactly able to reasonably live off-the-grid.

Edited 2016-06-17 13:59 (UTC)

this poem, by loma, almost broke me in half. i know there's so much more to say, but what can you say after that?

Thanks for sharing the poem
His dad should be very proud
It touched me in ways I needed

DEFINITELY.

last night i went through the entire memorial photo album the human rights campaign put together for sharing on facebook. it was brutal. that whole thing about knowing on a visceral gut level when you look into the eyes of a photographed person who has since died, it is NOT TRUE. everyone in that album was very much alive - or that's how much they wanted to be.

it sounds like the plan is to reopen pulse. what an incredible act of bravery. that's going to be hard.

This is the first time in my entire life I'm being called a bull goose looney, in any context, but I'll cop to it. What club, though? Crying and flying flags half-mast? I try to avoid all the ostentatious showiness of public outrage and grief, believe it or not, and don't put colors behind my icons or whatever the going thing is. But I react, boy howdy yeah. The world is tragic, and it's a lingering sadness for me too.

of course! i'm navigating what sounds like similar emotional space, though i'm doing it with a half-mast fb profile pic.

livejournal is also the island of misfit social network users, those of us who don't quite fit in the current internet culture; we were having a separate thread of conversation about how all three of us fit into that profile with more than our social network use.

i'm so sorry if any of this upset you, v!!!

Now I understand! Sorry to have made you explain. I'm happy to be in your company. :)

What beans? I was alerted by Mr. Anonymous to this post, which I missed I guess when checking my f-page the other day. The beans about Orlando? I'm still reeling from that. :(

Anonymousblack and myself were all over the board on these posts and in no way meant to question your reaction to the horror of Orlando
We were just acknowledging our membership in the club of wierdos chaired by you
As you recall that week after the incident in Orlando was very hard to put in any coherent post and we were trying to work through it
My apologies for any misunderstanding

Gotcha. I am proud and humbled at the same time to be chair of the club. Now let's have coffee and donuts!

No worries. I just felt stupid yesterday and wasn't sure what was happening. (I often don't know what's happening anymore!)

The Orlando shootings, like the killings in that black church last year, absolutely short-circuit my emotions. I don't know how to deal with them at all. Maybe that's the problem for many of us -- there really is no adequate response, aside from grief.

mr. anonymous said "I have it on good authority we may be among the weirdest" in an unrelated part of an earlier post and i just assumed you had to be the one who "spilled the beans" on that, since you've come to know a great deal about my weirdness over these last fifteen years. ♥ again, i'm so sorry if this caused you any distress.

Oh, no, I just couldn't imagine what the context was! I only hop onto LJ when I remember to, so it was possible I'd completely lost track of what was being said. (I'm trying to decide whether turning 65 means I should give up Tumblr and its fripperies, but then it seems my attention span really has shortened and not only due to that briefer format.) No worries, m'dear!

anyway, i'm so far gone the weirdos are typically the ones with retirement plans, wedding anniversaries, superbowl parties, and, um, washable couch covers that have been washed since 2012. ;-)

I like your parameters better
since I have none of those I feel less weird already

i always wait until someone has been sitting on the karlstad for a good twenty minutes to inform them that was where i spent most of my waking hours for the majority of the six days i spent in our apartment slightly radioactive. i mean, things that did not have direct contact with body fluids had broken down to our regular ambient levels by the third day and if there's anything in this apartment that's real cause for concern it is the dust, but it's amusing to watch the anxious shifting.

Well I am a little slow but begin to get the drift as I spent many hours taking care of my radioactive dad.

I want to respect your space but also want you to know I'm there if you need a blubbering old fool

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out along the edges is always where i burn to be

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