Friday, 10 May 2013

Except Me. I'm Still Talking About The End Of The World.

What's with all the bullshit about Mother's Day? Why do all the "things" ... like Christmas and Easter ... keep getting bigger each passing year? All my mum wants for Mother's Day is a burrito. And to come to the movies with me and the boys on Sunday to watch Ironman 3 with us because she watched Ironman 1 and 2 with Jim. We might even eat our burritos IN the cinema with lunch dessert on our laps. WHO EVEN KNOWS. Point is, we're spending some time with people we love. That's all. Does everything have to be marketed to the shithouse? I have my cranky pants on today.

I don't know so many things. It's exhilarating and quite frankly, relieving. You know what nine days out of a mental health ward feels like? Fucking terrifying is what it feels like. One day when I was in there, Dave visited with REAL coffee. We sat out on the tiny grass chatting like everything's fine. I was handling it all - my darkest thoughts, diagnosis, crap food, being held against my will.

Then Dave mentions that the budgie flew away.

I cried, like I'm crying now, and I cry everytime I think about the budgie. Who knows if he made it, out there in the Big Scary World. I had a connection with that budgie. Really grew to love him. Max let him out in his bedroom then Rocco left the front door open and now he's gone. If I'd have been here, it wouldn't have happened.

The thing about the budgie that always baffled me is that when I let him out, to fly and cruise around the house, he didn't want to. He'd always fly back to his cage and wait patiently, to be let back in.


About an hour ago, I'm sitting here on my couch in crazy-persons clothes, greasy, stinky, sad. There was a knock at the door and a courier delivered me these:

It's twelve bottles of wine from a PR agency - for Mothers Day.

As a recovering alcoholic I am not offended at all. This has made me laugh so, SO hard. For the first time in ages. So hard. (I can guarantee any alcohol company they do not want a product review from me ... unless it involves faeces, fornication, vomit, and raging despair.)


In the mail I also received a gift from two beautifuls, Magnetoboldtoo and Veggiemama.

"I tried to drown my sorrows but the damn things learned to swim." 

It's a quote by Frida Kahlo, that U2 used in the song describing a conversation between Jesus and Judas, "The End of the World."

I was 21 at this concert. Thought I knew everything. (Maybe I did.)


It's Friday. Street Talk day. Can't do it. I'm barely functioning, on a shitload of medication that we're still "tweaking." Severe constipation, a urinary tract infection that has given me a fever, and a head that still wants to kill me. I've purposely stayed off this blog because no news is good news, right?

So because there's no rules to blogging I'm going to cheat at Street Talk today and tell you about somebody I met on the street approximately twenty years ago. You know that Dr Seuss book when the the north-going Zax meets the South-going Zax? In the Prairie of Pax?

Well that's exactly what happened to me and this guy one day walking through Hyde Park in Sydney. There was plenty of people around, but we were walking from opposite directions in exactly the same manner, got to each other, stopped, and looked.

And this dude goes,

"Well .... hi!"

And I said,


Then we stood there for about twenty minutes, chatting. I can hardly remember the conversation - but I do remember that when he told me his name was Electric, he put his pointer finger on my arm and went ZZZZT and we both laughed.

We exchanged rings - I think I still have his, somewhere. It's big, never fit me, and made from metal. But I kept it. Never saw him again.

Once you talk to someone, they're not a stranger anymore. It's the darndest thing.


Friday Street Talk is an unfolding art project. I'm so grateful and blown away that people say yes to talking with me, trusting me with some snippets of who they are. 
Previous Street talks:

1. Noelene the Young
2. Megan the Mouse
3. Harpal the Australian
4. Darren the Artist
5. Jo the Interesting
6. John the Telstra Guy
7. Michael the Photographer
8. Peg the Lady
9. Jeff the Preacher Man
10. Andres the Cobbler
11. Honey the Prostitute
12. Mark the Masseur
13. You the Blog Reader
14. Jo the Podiatrist
15. Casey the Uni Student
16. Dream the Horse and Carriage Driver
17. Tamas the Hungarian Accordionist

PS I'm seeing three professionals and doing all the right things and trying to just chill but man I completely understand why the budgie wanted to go back into his cage. I miss hospital.


PPPS Mum for Mothers Day you're getting a burrito AND twelve bottles of wine.

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Write to be understood, speak to be heard. - Lawrence Powell

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