Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Dancing With The Zombie
It's so funny how when the depression comes over me, I can feel it physically. It's like that stupid commercial, "Who does depression hurt?"
I can feel it in my eyes. Actually and literally. They feel salted and warm, almost as if there were tear jello stuck in them. Yes. That is it. Tear Jello.
Or perhaps the nasty stuff is caught in my sinuses because you know, you don't really cry when this sort of feeling comes over you. You just walk around like Zombie Bob. Yesterday I went to get in the car in Vero and Mr. Moon said, "Uh, honey?"
I was trying to get into the blue car next to our blue car. Completely dazed out. Our car is an Impala, the one I was trying to open was a BMW.
But you know, it's okay. I didn't try to do shit today. We walked down to the Methodist Church where I learned, sort of, to skate board on a piece of shit that I think my grandfather made me out of a board and a pair of skates. We used these bastardized things down at the Methodist Church because they had the only sidewalk in town.
They have a thrift store there now and I got some beautiful linen napkins for twenty-five cents apiece and a linen tablecloth with Battenberg lace for a buck.
But then I DID go to the Goodwill and got something which is bound to be a Christmas present for someone and then I came back here and slept.
Mr. Moon said, "I can't sleep as much as you can."
I said, "Well, you're not as depressed as I am."
But you know, the funny thing is, is that it's okay.
I am still, even with the Tear Jello clogging my pipes and eyes and joints, too, having a sweet time of it. Does that make any sense?
I think it's because I know it will pass. Maybe even as soon as tomorrow. I think it will. I do.
And every where I look, there is some sort of beauty that knocks me out, even though I am Zombie Bobbing around the place.
I can almost laugh at myself. Okay. I CAN laugh at myself.
Oh. Poor old Mary. Stuck in paradise. Bless her little heart.
Yeah. Tomorrow. We'll paddle the river tomorrow. Or at the very least, I'll take the camera around do a photo history of Roseland. One of the funniest things to me is how, even though so much is the same, the most changed buildings I see are the two houses I lived in as a child.
They've changed so much that I would never in a million years recognize them if they weren't sitting right there where they belong.
Wouldn't you know?
Life is funny. Life is hysterical.
The trick is just to hold on until you get the joke.
And I am.
Time to watch the sunset.