At any rate, I am going to get medicated tomorrow, for all you nervous nellies who might be concerned about a kitchenware massacre. And it's not because I gave up fancy coffee. Not even the fanciest coffees would help me right now. Part of me wanted to post this under Come to Jesus because that's what I had to do today; admit that I need help to crawl out of this hole that's been 38 years in the making. For a long time I skated by with fancy coffees, chocolate, and good comedy on TV- but, for whatever reason, my time to skate is past. Not even the perpetual good news of hearing the words "President Obama" spoken in whatever context could shake off this overwhelming grief I'm experiencing right now. Although, as you can see below, I tried that medicine.
Mmm, good medicine! That's me lying on the floor, covered with special inauguration day copies of both the Rocky Mountain News (which is for sale) and the Denver Post- and let me just say I have not paid good money for either of those raggy pieces of shit, ever since the Post endorsed Bush back in 2004 (and I wrote one helluva Howler of a "letter to the editor" and canceled my subscription forthwith) and the News went to a 2nd-grade reading level with big shiny pictures format a couple years ago. Well, the Rocky's been shit ever since John Coit died, but the Post- I expected more from them, somehow.
What I am doing on the floor is trying to soak in, by osmosis, the great, the awesome, the inspiring news of Obama's inauguration, so that it can heal my cracked soul. Hey, it's worth a try. As you can see, the 'Bama is on C-SPAN behind me, giving his address to the Democratic Retreat at Williamsburg just a few days ago.
Yes, watching that did help me, a little. But I still need drugs.
I came very close to purchasing every "Special Inauguration Edition" of every magazine I'd never heard of- the best being Black Woman Today, with their special coverage of (tears welling up again) our First Lady, Michelle Obama.
Yes, I'm one of those people. If I had the money, I'd buy every damn one of them. At this point, I will gladly read any scrap, any tidbit of good, uplifting, non-evil news, especially if it has anything to do with the Obamas. The dresses? Yes, please tell me about the dresses! The designers! The fact that she chose a young, unknown minority guy rather than some staid, boring, established house of fashion that doesn't need the money anyway! Tell me what those beautiful girls wore too, and why! Does Malia love purple and dark blue, or was that a consensus decision? Did Sasha sit on her grandmother's lap during the parade, or her Aunt Auma's, from Kenya?
And YES, goddamit, I want to know about the dog. Tell me everything you can about what sort of puppy or rescue they're going to get. I've already scanned PetFinder.com for them, and have voted on my favorites.
A lot of my friends, online and "real" seem to be going through the same sort of emotional catharsis. One described hiding out in her room, crying during the inauguration parties rather than celebrating. But all of us have been holed up in defensive postures these past 8, or 38 years, in one way shape or form. And now we're finally uncurling ourselves, and it's kind of painful. Like our hearts are being freshly torn in two. All sorts of things that we've blocked up is now gushing out, and it's not easily controlled. Rage. Indiscriminate anger. Giddiness. Peevishness. Happiness too, but it also comes with tears, of relief, or joy, who knows. And now there's not a lot to celebrate, really, (except for the Republican party going down in flames, Yaaayyy! Take that, you Bastard fucktards!)even if you do have a job.
Maybe I've said this all before, and I'll probably say it again. But I repeat, take all the good news you can, with the glossiest photos you can find, and smear it like a salve all over your dry, cracked, heartbroken soul. Roll around in it, revel in it, let yourself enjoy it. We do have to take some time to heal ourselves before we can get to work as "whole" people. And that's exactly what I'm doing tomorrow.
