Nearly a week back and I have yet to update properly.
In my defense, all those updates from the 15th up until the latest one, on the 18th, were me drunk/buzzed or just really bored as I waited for Pacemaker to wake up from her slumber.
I was going bananas because homegirl would sleep until the middle of the fucking day... and I'd sit in her room completely frustrated, looking out the window to see the fucking beautiful sunny morning fade away.
I took a book with me, thinking I'd make use of it at the airport, but that shit actually kept me form jumping out Pacemaker's balcony ("Pamela." I knew the premise, since Mooney has an inside joke pertaining to it, but nothing more. I was captivated by the damn thing... and each time I'd crack it open, I'd stay up until 5-6 in the morning reading it. I finally finished it last night, and was SO fucking angry. SO angry. Seriously... straight bullshit ending... I thought the damn girl was going to grow a goddamn backbone by the end of it. Bitch spent all 516 pages "trembling" and "weeping" and wanting nothing more than to please her master. CLEARLY a fucking man wrote this shit. ROAR! I did enjoy the epistolary style, however... since obviously I do that shit). Once reading proved to be insufficient to control my frustration, I'd just hit the ground and do pushups, or sit ups, or planks... anything to keep from throwing my book (or luggage or phone or purse or shoes etc etc) at Pacemaker in hopes of startling her awake.
She did indulge me Saturday afternoon by taking me hiking. Sadly, I had to go at her pace... and it looked like when a tiny lady tries controlling a hyper guard dog during a morning jog, and the dog spots another animal. I was all over the place... bouncing, running, coming back to her, asking her questions she'd be too tired to answer without violently sucking air. I had to finally give up and practically crawl at her pace (of course I became frustrated by the stroll and began doing high-knees--pretty much skipping as high as I could-- as she walked in her slow manner).
At one point, we found a bench she needed to take a break on... and I proceeded to run hill-sprints as she caught her breath. I have some meanass ADD sometimes.
In my defense, all those updates from the 15th up until the latest one, on the 18th, were me drunk/buzzed or just really bored as I waited for Pacemaker to wake up from her slumber.
I was going bananas because homegirl would sleep until the middle of the fucking day... and I'd sit in her room completely frustrated, looking out the window to see the fucking beautiful sunny morning fade away.
I took a book with me, thinking I'd make use of it at the airport, but that shit actually kept me form jumping out Pacemaker's balcony ("Pamela." I knew the premise, since Mooney has an inside joke pertaining to it, but nothing more. I was captivated by the damn thing... and each time I'd crack it open, I'd stay up until 5-6 in the morning reading it. I finally finished it last night, and was SO fucking angry. SO angry. Seriously... straight bullshit ending... I thought the damn girl was going to grow a goddamn backbone by the end of it. Bitch spent all 516 pages "trembling" and "weeping" and wanting nothing more than to please her master. CLEARLY a fucking man wrote this shit. ROAR! I did enjoy the epistolary style, however... since obviously I do that shit). Once reading proved to be insufficient to control my frustration, I'd just hit the ground and do pushups, or sit ups, or planks... anything to keep from throwing my book (or luggage or phone or purse or shoes etc etc) at Pacemaker in hopes of startling her awake.
She did indulge me Saturday afternoon by taking me hiking. Sadly, I had to go at her pace... and it looked like when a tiny lady tries controlling a hyper guard dog during a morning jog, and the dog spots another animal. I was all over the place... bouncing, running, coming back to her, asking her questions she'd be too tired to answer without violently sucking air. I had to finally give up and practically crawl at her pace (of course I became frustrated by the stroll and began doing high-knees--pretty much skipping as high as I could-- as she walked in her slow manner).
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| See that bench there? Saved Pacemaker's life... and quite possibly her sanity |
Anyway... I drank a lot. A LOT. The only day I was sober was Monday, and even then, I was somewhat sleep deprived from the reading and crying and thinking... that come Monday night, I was pretty much talking nonsense.
I would have also written sooner, however, a series of unfortunate events has fucked with my brain.
Dad came back from Cuba on Sunday... umm, his uncle passed away Thursday afternoon... I've been at the beck and call of the family, especially if it involves the airport-- I'm on that duty.
And lastly, today is Vicente Fernandez's farewell concert here. I was originally stoked, because I managed to snag a pair of tickets... but due to this loss in the family, I had to sell my tickets.
It has me more upset than I thought it would.
So... too much going on. Too much.
1 comment:
Those stupid pre-Victorian men. It is "Pamela; or Virtue Rewarded" which started off as conduct manual for women but ended up as a novel. That's why the ending is shit. But her virtue is rewarded, I suppose, Mr. B marries her.
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