Mourning pages 6/11/23 – I’m some kind of responsible speed dial list for my old party friends

I talked to one of my friends last night. He was drunk but had enough on top over the brain stem to ask if you can order a breathalyzer on DoorDash. Solid. You don’t take your car or keys if you plan to drink unless you want a court-ordered breathalyzer on your starter while you try to piece your live back together and let the rule of not operating heavy machinery while under the influence sink in. He knows this but got one of those early starts at a BBQ that was just supposed to be a pop-in. So I went to get him. It may have all just been a ruse from the cosmos to get me to socialize for a bit, and it is pretty hilarious to talk to a friend when they’re snookered. I took the roundabout and asked how fast he thought we were donuting.  Then had to actually stop for donuts. Yes and.

Tell me a story, he said, then fell asleep by the time I got him home. He missed the part where they skipped the scapegoats and went straight for the king.

My mind was on Claire anyway. She’s a real pill. Her presence, the audacity, causes rivers of energy spikes throughout the community. They jump up like spawning salmon, each bubbling out a quick comment:
“You make me feel dumb,” said the first one. Splash!
“You overthink things,” said the second one. Kerplunk!

She routinely has to find a whole different river to birth her thoughts. A real pill. Side effects include temporary psychosis, imaginary flirtation, alienation, and bowel rot. Ask your doctor, before leaving the pack, if She is right for you.

Most people fail at power. If power were a pill, what would be your side effects?

Anyway, Claire is very important to me and I for one love her fire and water, like a thunderbolt that reanimates the dead but will not be particularly harnessed. I just like to send her things that center me like writing, artwork, and creative encouragement. And of course humor. That’s about as close as I can get and still stay grounded enough to work all day, promote my mission and industry, teach, mentor students, do DIY work on houses, help oversee a ton of events and presentations, stay educated in too many interests, and not just want to stay at peace and rest in dreamland. 

I guess I understand Claire to some extent. And will her to hear me say that there really is hope that things will get better as you are never at the end. 

I wish she were here now…helping me figure out how to get my friend into his house. I actually do have a dolly with a leanback setting for heavy things. Or I could just belt him in the car, crack some windows, and lock him in for the night? I mean, he can get out if he wakes but no one can get in. Or I can just sit here and write this little ditty and try to wake him every so often for about six seconds of nonsense.

It is a pretty night and I do think I have a marker on me and some lipstick. He would look very pretty with a defined brow, a pencil style or even borat mustache, ooh, and the raisin plum color would really bring a cooling blush to his lips and cheeks. I think that a sweet memory like that would make this all worth it.