New  »   Sunshine Jen  ·  Post-Modern Drunkard  ·  Poop Beetle  ·  Robot Journal  ·  Gator Country
Search...



«« past   |   future »»


Sunday, february sixth (i)
 
 



comments[8]
all comments

post #14
bio: kristen
perma-link
2/6/2005
23:37

archives
first post
that week
XML/RSS




Category List
The ones about love
The ones about men


Previous Posts
Dutch Ultimatum
The Ludditette
Friday Party #347
The Wizard of Uz
Taking One 4 the Team
Leap and the Net Will Appear

what to write what to write.

while i was lying in bed just now, i was coming up with all sorts of sturm und drang. Oh you would have pitied me, and I would have come out the lamb of innocence. It wasn't my fault, my father.... you get the drift.

It is windy and droplet-y here in santa monica today.

It is super bowl sunday. mark unexpectedly has the day off. Or either he didn't tell me he had it off. he is working next week, and that means the money portion of my three-pronged modes of anxiety will be satisfied.


What to write.

[Kristen's note: long and biased and almost too revealing. I promise the next one will be about a funny cat story.]


Would you like to hear about my one day manic attack (thank you drugs, lilit, and experience). It was my third attack in my life - or rather in my recorded history. Who knows what those bursts of enthusiasm from the reticent child kristen were - happiness or disease.

That's always the case with this exotic disease.

It begins with creativity. I believe my first attack was even somewhat chronicled in happyrobot (except for the large portions that rich had to edit out - i think the highlight being when I gave out my address and password for anyone who wanted to post... this is why I currently e-mail rich my posts instead of feeding them to you myself.)

It begins with fabulous - i'm alive again - creativity. It is countered with break in structure.

Uno was precipitated by the 2000 election. I was absolutely floored that the supreme court could be bought. floored i tell you. how naive i was then... just registering as an independent (for impartiality sake) and casting my clinton votes.

The creativity started during the holiday season. We had done ecstasy at sandy's new year party. It was hilarious fun. I remember trying to show people how silly the secrets inside were - shouting that my father had molested me and thinking it was so cathartic that everyone should do it. (sherry was the only other taker but that's a whole story tied into my first friend date). I danced like a champ.

I was voluntarily committed to a hospital and was out in a week? Mark and I looked at it as closening our marriage, but I was broken like a doll and in total denial. Oh to show your butt involuntarily - quelle horreur.

You get the gist. I think the doctors call is delusions of grandeur, messiah complex, rule of three. Anyhoo, I was in a fabulous mood for days and days. I would cry a lot to but mostly for the plight of mankind.

[pb]
Dos was when mark was in california to move here (a structure must always be broken).

The creativity part was that I was going to make a short with all the powerful women in the town (the boys were always making shorts). I was going to write it (at last to shit and indeed get off the pot afterwards). It was to be based on my life work and entitled "narsissi".... all fushia tones and set in the future revolving around four parties.... alas it there was only one production meeting and tons of notes written by a madwoman (me silly).

I was saying goodbye to all my favorite haunts - or rather au revoir. I walked around the lake a lot, ate at genki and taste of country and nikki's. I was happy and scared but prepared to follow my money-earner to the big leagues from our dying town. I went to a cuculorus function (using my founding husband's allotted free passes). It was opening night - the day before the first day of spring.

It rained like a mutha f-er on the way there. I stopped by verena's to drop off the extra pass (his and guest). She wasn't there, so I dried out in her loft and borrowed some boots she had outside the door as my shoes were soaked to the cockles. As I was walking to the hosting bar, I saw a ghost - my first. I was happy and it felt magical. I was going to see good friends and would be saying another long goodbye to the town I adore.

Walking in was of course like cheers. I gabbed with the galls then set up kristen court in the lobby. I noticed my lab partner (from when I had tried to go back to school to UNCW to become a teacher) talking to zach. How strange I thought. Fast forward. we were closing the bar down talking about string theory and living in the moment and the end of the world.

The dreaded 'x factor' (how do you make god laugh? plan). I felt love for him and went absolutely bonkers.

The structure was cracked. Foundation ruined.

At first I thought I could be anais nin about it. Then I went totally nuts. I would laugh. Go to cheers by myself. Play pool. smoke.
Love humanity and work on my screenplay.

Of course these were balanced by my mad dancing and crying fits. The solid reckoning that this was doomed because I was losing my grip.
Actually to be honest, I felt that I had it under control.
[pb]
The others didn't think so at all. I wrote what I thought was a lyric poem of narcissi. My sister was to visit, and I smoked the last of my pot and created this rough masterpiece. I later learned that everyone thought it was like a madwoman's spew. I thought it was brilliant (and fuck no I haven't read it since.) I had written narsissi's marrow. Scared to death, but eager for feedback, I sent the missive to all I knew.

The others didn't think so at all. And when you have manic depression, you have to rely on the others.

This is another aspect of the disease that sucks.

Sure another time another place. Eh, this is what love songs are about. I wish I could understand edith piaf, but I do have billie.

This ended with mark sending my sister to commit me to said hospital "hello again dear crazies". This time I went in chains and anger and disbelief. I begged one person to tell me what was one manic symptom I was exhibiting (happyrobot was gone or it could have been used as evidence).


I always feel like the maitreya.



Tres. I shan't tell you about tres yet. It lasted the shortest of any of my spell. It was sunday, january 30. I took some emergency addition pills, went to lilit the next day, and held my breath. She cleared me. She cheered for me. She gave me unexpired emergency pills plus one for anxiety.

The emotional flu was contained.

Now just the apologies remain. I'm in fear that I've lost all my fledgling friends and the chance of "x factor". I'm horrified, but mark says that it will be OK. He will always be in my life. Thank gods. No body else likes me (except maybe jane and sophia). everybody hates me. I guess I'll go eat some worms.

I am full of shit. I am full of myself.

Tooooo embarrassed to proof this. But as always with happyrobot, I am so grateful to have you fulfill my 'ayeconfess.com' function. I am so grateful that rich is a scientist more than a poet (and I mean that in such a good way)... more like I'm glad he's air and not water...... just like i'm glad jane and sophia are more fire. I've had enough water to drown in.

How embarrassing. YOu don't have to read me anymore if I sicken you.
[pb]



«« past   |   future »»