encore de slink.

by dorarandom

well. i don’t know why i am so terrible at writing here. you know, imaginary reader, i think about writing every day. (and non-imaginary reader, if you write comments, i’m not being rude in not responding—i’m being rude in not even reading them—though i would like to read them—or anyway i feel guilty about not reading them—but i kind of can’t stand the concept of comments sometimes.)

i do know why i am terrible at writing here. i’ve gotten old and timid and fearful of judgment. i’m ashamed, but there we are.

my father isn’t dead. he does seem to be—as they say—circling the drain. but his wife isn’t going to his care meetings (or even opening the mail, it seems), so it was hard to know what was happening there. it was quite a trip. ‘circling the drain’ is a nasty callous way to put it—i was all emotion when i was in florida—i wished that i could be down there taking care of him—saving everyone, including myself, from themselves—and i was all emotion for about a week after i got back, but it all seems to have hardened into a plaque or dried up like a dream deferred and whatnot now. the visit was kind of karamazovian. though i read platonov throughout. my stepmother picked me up at the airport and we drank airplane-size bottles of champagne in the car on the way to the nursing home to see my hepatic encephalopathic father. and somehow things got more sordid from there. significantly more sordid. i guess i really should write about the trip in detail, at least to myself.

i guess i really lost my father a long time ago. there is an alcoholic-family-cliché for you.

my cat isn’t dead. not at all! figment has even been liberated from the cone of shame. and he is climbing up everyone’s arms and frisking about. and at his latest postop checkup, on monday, the vet/surgeon said he couldn’t believe how well he has recovered—he’s doing so well that it’s “almost miraculous”, especially considering how sick he was. i swallowed tears and hugged the vet with a pouncy hug. i am willing to say that his recovery is miraculous! i prayed to st. francis, of course, but also to st. nicholas of tolentino—i believe in specialization—seriously!

i started a new job last week. it is incredibly boring. it might be the most boring job i’ve ever had. i sit quietly in an office and read blogs and i swear i can hear my cells decay. everyone in the office is pleasant, though. and the building is nice. i think i could get comfortable there. i have to try to like something about my life.

i have to figure out how to be happy and make friends in this town.