And this, ladies and gentlemoons, is how my whole new Star Wars adventure began! Like an acid flashback, only intergalactic, in the moment, and essentially real!
I mean, clearly no one would vote for volts until everything else had failed. It’s reserved for those languishing in the suicidal ideation lounge, and I had never been truly suicidal. Not that I haven’t, on occasion, thought it might be an improvement over the all-too-painful present if I could be deadish for maybe just a teeny little bit of it. You know, like a really good sleep, after which I’d wake refreshed and equal to whatever the problem had been, that problem would have now vanished.
It seemed to calm me, getting anything that might be chaotic behind the eyes onto the page in front of me where it could do me less harm.
What was it I wanted to tell you? Was it the new T-shirt-ready saying I came up with: “There’s no room for demons when you’re self-possessed”?
Put it into words – you can’t feel words. I think that if I could give a name to what I feel it would go away. Find the word that describes the feeling and say it over and over until it’s merely a sound.
I was a voracious reader, but part of what that taught me was that I was nowhere near as scholarly as I wanted to be. I was precocious, but how many years beyond your teens can you be called that with sincerity?
Heaven’s no place for one who thrives on hell.
It was a year that, like all years, a lot of things happened in.
You were very serious,” her grandmother continued. “You had these big brown eyes and you were always going, ‘What’s that? What’s that?’ You wondered what everything was. You would frown and point a lot, like a conductor looking for your orchestra. You always seemed very busy, like you were between appointments all the time, but you were just a little child.
I was barely old enough to vote but I could easily enlist in the army, and I enlisted into the army of him.
I don’t know how anyone can drink alcohol, just based on the taste.
You have the eyes of a doe and the balls of a samurai.
And my weight, as everyone at Lucasland can recall, was, and remains, of the “any kind” variety.
Kidding yourself doesn’t require that you have a sense of humor. But.
Mike Nichols used to say we were two flowers, no gardener. No one was minding the relationship.
Even though you were running around and shooting guns, your hair absolutely could not be in disarray. One had to look all neat and tidy while involved in the aerobic activity of saving the galaxy.
Back then I was always looking ahead to who I wanted to be versus who I didn’t realize I already was, and the wished-for me was most likely based on who other people seemed to be and the desire to have the same effect on others that they had had on me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have given the guy who pumped my stomach my phone number, but who cares? My life is over anyway.
He’s far from a fool, nowhere near. I’m quite near. I can feel the fool that’s so far away from him breathing down my neck.
There are a couple of reasons why I take comfort in being able to put all this in my own vernacular and present it to you. For one thing, because then I’m not completely alone with it. And for another, it gives me a sense of being in control of the craziness. Now this is a delusion, but it’s MY delusion and I’m sticking with it. It’s sort of like: I have problems but problems don’t have me.