this blog began as a section on my site called “Infinite Diarrhea” which I took down very shortly after starting it because … people were reading it. This, in turn, was causing problems in my already failing marriage …
Believe me, I’ve always found the concept of public diaries -blogs, I suppose- to be somewhere between stupid and egotistical but, well. There you have it … and here we go.
Mom is in town, now. Ostensibly here to help us move since Sharon tore her left thumb off at the Wooden Boat Festival by placing it between a cleat and the prow of a boat riding a swell.
I find it very interesting how I am now put almost immediately on my guard by my mother’s presence – my sense of failure and insignificance swelling to such a point that I begin to lose control of myself and act irrationally, apologizing for things no one realizes I am thinking and snapping at insults no one has given. It’s not as bad as all that, of course but it sometimes seems like it.
We’re moving into a new house. It’s a very nice house with gardens and levels and all sorts of happy-crappy but I find it difficult to get too excited about as our marriage is hanging on by a similar slim thread as her thumb was yet there is no bucket of ice to keep it in until help arrives, no handkerchief to staunch the flow of blood from the wound, no surgeon waiting at the end of a short helicopter ride to sew it back on.
Signing the quit claim to the house was particularly fulfilling. A cross between a punch to the gut and a severe nose-rubbing in the mess of my marital failure.
Thank god I start school soon. In it I am placing a lot of hope – my tunnel with the sparkly end. All this despite the fact that I’ve not been to school in 20 years, did quite poorly when I was there, and have the memory of a digital watch (and none of the math ability).
I could go on and on in this vein but the bourbon is calling and I’ve to get up relatively early tomorrow for more moving hijinks.
