I still haven't figured out entirely what I want to do with this. I know I don't want to get to whiny and abstract, but is it ok to use it as a diary of sorts? I got in enough trouble for that in the past. But if I wait for the inspiration to write only about other things, I'll probably never write anything at all. So for now, the occasional diary entry.
I'm in Long Beach. The workers downstairs are on lunch break, and all I know about them is something I just heard, that one of them in particular has a fondness for redheaded women, but he compared them to wild cats. As long as the sawing and hammering stops for a moment, I can't say I care much if his fondness is for octogenarian triple amputees. It's another beautiful day and I'm going to head to a coffee shop soon, but I'll probably leave my laptop at home this time -- the walk yesterday was kinda rough -- and just write. A vague ache moves through me like toxins in my blood: yesterday went wrong.
I'll spare the details, even though they're so odd as to probably be actually amusing, [this part deleted -- just like I shouldn't shop when I'm hungry, I shouldn't post when I'm cranky] It will resolve itself, as the other fifty or so fights we've had in the past eleven months have. [this part too.]
Probably the most amusing part about this is that my response to his nastiness was to go spitefully clean his kitchen when he had asked me not to. Yeah, I'll show you, I'll CLEAN YOUR KITCHEN.
So I'm hoping the sadness I'm feeling will make for powerful writing. It usually doesn't, but I remain an optimist. This entry is much mopier than I'd wanted it to be, than I wanted to be, but I'm going ahead with it, and going to try again before the redhead-lover and his pals start jackhammering into my skull again.
Dear Charlie.
ReplyDelete"Yeah, I'll show you, I'll CLEAN YOUR KITCHEN."
Boy that is one nasty mean streak you have mister. hahahaha!
Bob L.
Oh Charlie. I adored this post. Someday when we live in the same city and routinely borrow sugar from each other and chit-chat, I should tell you all the details of my first year in Sao Paulo and the absolutely hair-brained, certifiably insane fights we had. If the compendium of a couple's fights could somehow be captured in a slide show, ours would be the hit of the cocktail circuit.
ReplyDelete(The point being we're still very much married, very happy, and learned a lot from the growing pains.)
xo
I want to be the hit of the cocktail circuit, not the stupid dog! Wait.. confused...
ReplyDeleteYesh. We approach a year and I need a job so we can fight about something new! It's nice to remember that there remains a light at the end of this hackneyed metaphor.
I'm a slow beginner and have only just stumbled on to Charlie's blog, so forgive my late and outdated comments, but I had to respond to Bob.
ReplyDeleteDon't you mean that's one nasty CLEAN streak Charlie has? *grin*
Too much time on your hands when you are out of work or in between client calls for extended periods of time.
ReplyDeleteIt's not you, it's him, is what someone said to me.
Clean his kitchen, get him a little annoyed it puts a little more fire in the furnace for some wildness! lol