The last disheartening 24 hours have been mostly about arguing with my brother.
Because of his brain injury, he cannot always help being a lit match - and I, in spite of knowing better, cannot seem to stop being an endless, high octane gas leak. And so we go, around and around, in a ridiculous contest of wills that never changes and rarely ends well.
Conflagrations - you may already be a winner!
I am thinking now, as I often do, of how overwhelming and confusing living is - and how fragile and poorly equipped we all are for the job. To live well, it seems one must always strive to do what is healthy and right and safe and fulfilling - and how does anyone succeed at that? It's like becoming your own IRS agent and auditing yourself, or judging your entry in your own art show. "Woah, this is an ugly piece of work but you know, it is MY show..."
Hmmm, that sounds a bit bumperstickery, though not quite as lame as IF FARTING WAS AN ART I'D BE PICASSO, which I actually saw today.
Okay - time for sleep, and then further exhibiting - because it is, you know,
my show.
Pathetic tv - Invasion. Ya gotta love it.
Recent reading matter: The Adversary by Emmanuel Carrere
(If you've ever known a master liar - this is the book for you.)
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4 comments:
Oh, Brown Shoes, your writing, your words are delicious. I happen to know a few things about pouring gas on my head when I am near my familie's own lit match, so I am entitled to speak about this. It is gut-turning, gut-wrenching, billious, obnoxious, sad, maddening, and terrifying. It takes away breath and easy-swallows. It eats away at one's stomach. It chews the arms of the tables and chairs. "It" being the situation. The worst part is one can't even get properly angry and take after the person with a sword or baseball bat because they are SICK. (But often one would like to). ANd the thought that this will likely go on, month after month, year after year,...well it is enough to sell yourself into sex slavery. Which is, by the way, not a bad idea.
Fragile and ill equipped?
AW CONTRAIR!
If that were so, we'd be pushing up the daisies ... or obtaining restraining orders by the dozens. Instead, we go through shit-storm days and as the sun sets somewhere behind those rain clouds, we hit the keyboard and crack wisely.
Well.
I think you are on the mark with how difficult it can be to live a life fully when one is challenged in any way, by art or vodka or smartness or any other number of reasons. It's a hard road for the thoughtul, for sure. But stiff-upper-lip still does apply.
Maybe YOU will be one of the ones lifted by The Rapture. See Bookworm's blog. YOU will because you have to endure your sick brother. And that is pure, whether you like it or not.
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