it's my blog

and I'll cry if I want to

I've had the most dreadful couple of days, really really awful; everything is crap; everything has gone pear-shaped; I feel like shit again, even tho just a few days ago I was feeling as if I was beginning to be able to handle things again with a modicum of success

I'm exhausted, feel as if I have flu coming on, need someone to come and look after me as I have no energy or strength to do it myself, need to phone a friend - except I don't have anyone I can call, am so lonely I could cry (in fact the tears are streaming down my face as I write this)

fucking hell - why does it have to be like this sometimes? how can I be on all the medication I'm on and still feel like this? how can I have good days and then have bad days again? I want to say "it's not fair" but we weren't allowed to say that when I was little and I can still hear my mother's reply in my head ("black man's hair never will be") (didn't make any sense to me when she used to say that, as we lived in Cheltenham where there were no people of colour) so I won't and anyhow it's not about fair it's about responsibility, isn't it? it's OK, there are no answers to any of those rhetorical questions, are there, apart from the fact it's just a life and I should learn to let go a little

but I need a hug and some comfort and I'm so very very sad again and I hate it

"Absence diminishes small loves

and increases great ones,
.

.
as the wind blows out the candle
.

.
and blows up the bonfire."

Francois de La Rouchefoucauld

yesterday all my troubles

thundered down on me, as they had done the day before. . .

but something deep inside me (perhaps the need to drink coffee) made me venture out of the glass tower, to go to the corner shop to buy some milk

I crossed the path of the silver soft top (by total coincidence, and not one I would have planned if I'd known) exiting the underground parking. . .
.
(it really is very pucker here - who'd have thought it when XCH and I were penniless students all those years ago, from ordinary families, I never knew - because he never told me - that he aspired to this sort of thing) (or maybe he didn't then; perhaps he just kind of arrived here, with me sort of in tow along part of the journey, tied in his wake by the strings of one of my homemade aprons) (I used to do a very good line in homemade aprons - found some marvellous fabric dead cheap at IKEA of all places, and bought lots of wooden spoons; made child-size and adult size aprons and sold them with a wooden spoon in the pocket, all prettied up with ric-rac, at local xmas craft fairs) (I think the profit I made covered the cost of the petrol to IKEA and the few dozen times I had to drive around the North/South Circular to get there) (ho hum)

. . .with Mini-Teen in the front passenger seat (where I used to sit)

the experience made me feel very alone and very left out (whereas selling aprons to people who didn't know how to use a sewing machine gave me a strange sense of fulfilment, at the time)
.
on the way back from the corner shop, I passed a home furnishing store and - even tho this is not my home - I decided to spend a huge amount of money on new bedlinen (XCH's not only needed washing, cos I've slept in it for over a week now, but reminded me too much of our marriage and - strangely - Manhattan hotels); later I went back and bought some cushions and throw to jolly up his black leather bachelor sofa. . .

. . .then I rearranged his furniture (which I helped him choose, even tho we'd separated), so that all the seats are facing the view, instead of the tv and the games consoles

. . .then I rearranged his art work (all of which we'd bought together, when we were married), so I have the pictures hanging where I'd like to see them
.
. . .then I rearranged his what-used-to-be-garden-furniture (which I'd bought him as a present three summers ago, with the profits from my apron-and-other-hand-made-items-business), on the deck-cum-terrace-cum-patio that wraps itself around his sky high apartment, so I can sit comfortably at a table when I draw
.

then I drew little boats all day long,
in between drinking lots of coffee
and smoking far too many fags

.

then I was very sad for a while,
but not as sad as I'd been on Friday
and earlier on in the day

on Friday I was told that I will be here, alone,
for six months

but, each day as it comes, eh;
each morning, afternoon or evening;
each hour, each minute or second

thank you for spending
a few of yours with me

I enjoy your company
very much. . .

happy day, dear reader,
happy day

and no, I'm not going to launch into The First Cut Is The Deepest, cos it's not - the cuts just get deeper and deeper every time; nor Don't It Makes My Brown Eyes Blue, cos the colour of your eyes (well, mine at least) doesn't change according to the state of the heart; neither am I going to sing The Mighty Swedes (that's Abba, to the uninitiated) One Of Us Is Crying
..

altho the latter is tempting. . .

oh, who cares? here we go:
.

one of us

.

of course, one of my other fave Abba songs, is The Day Before You Came, altho I think Pulp's Something Changed expresses the sentiment better. . .

the learning curves

despite the quantities of drugs I'm on, I still experience utterly despairing lows
.
the CitC people call it a "rollercoaster" (which only reminds me of The Five People You Meet In Heaven) but it doesn't feel like that
..

.
I don't experience "highs", I just have small moments where I can cope and I can smile and I can laugh and I forget myself and things seem virtually normal for a moment or two; what are not "highs", are just the normal everyday ground level, but the "lows" are subterranian - imagine a rollercoaster the top of which is only just peaking out by your feet, then look down down down into the deep dark chasm where I find myself.being taken thru no choice of my own

:-(

.
it's not fun: it doesn't feel like a pleasure ride; with whooping and screaming and bends and twists and excitement - altho I do have that feeling of terror in the pit of my stomach and that dreadful lurching that makes you feel like you need to vomit. . .
.
. . .copiously
.

.
and I'm the only one on the ride
.

.
I'm petrified

.

it is very confusing

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone
.
.
I can see all obstacles in my way
.
.
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
.
.
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun shiny day
.
I think I can make it now, the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I've been prayin' for
.
.
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun shiny day
.
Look all around, there's nothin' but blue skies
Look straight ahead, nothin' but blue skies
.
.
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
.
.
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
.
.
Sun shiny day
.

as sung by ROBERTA FLACK