loudness/wine/trivialisation

and i just kept shouting it over and over again; "don't talk to my mother that way! don't talk to my mother that way ever again! do you understand me!" i got louder and louder, and each time i yelled with more force i felt better and better. i've never had that feeling before: a real desire to be as loud as i possibly could. looking back at it now i suppose i wanted to be heard, i really did, and to feel my chest shaking flicked some primal endorphin switch in my head to 'on'. dad didn't know what to do. at first i thought he was completely shocked and couldn't get his head around what was happening, or believe that it was passive, collected me that was causing it to. but now what i'm more worried about that anything else is that maybe he was scared of me.

the plates in the dishwasher and wiped down the table. bringing dad's wine bottle back to the counter i absent-mindedly raised it to my mouth, put the cool round top against my lips, and instantly took it away. come on, i thought. what am i doing? trying to live up to some enforced stereotype of the 'depressed son'? what a pile of bollocks. i'm not the sort of person who resorts to the bottle in a time like this - or in any time - and do so now would just be a complete lie.

important thing to me is that you don't fucking trivialise this with your set phrases and imagery that you repeat to each person that you tell, or by gradually condensing it all to one canonical version of events that leaves out that bits you don't want to remember but presents the facts in a way that reinforces your point of view. this isn't ideological history, mother, for fuck's sake: this is our lives." but of course i didn't say any of them.

carl sandburg - 'chicago'

'And having answered so I turn once more to those who sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.'

adlai, adlai.

it upsets me to think that it can be so hot and sunny outside, and i can be so keen to go lie in the garden and enjoy the summer, yet i still choose to stay indoors and listen to the avalanche and start an internet blog.

but i really do want to go outside. if i'm this bad at doing what i want when it's just sun, how am i ever going to sort out a career or anything like that. thank god i've still got a few years of freedom left.