Jun 08, 2008 00:54
the other night, Evan had me fill out this proust questionnaire book that his aunt gave him. It was over MANY bottles of two buck chuck with Evan and Zoe that i filled in the questions. when it came to the part asking how i felt at that moment in my life, i could honestly write the word, "CONTENT."
It astounded me. If you were to ask me a month ago how i felt i would have answered in some hopeless banter.
as stupid as it may sound, a fucking poem has helped me survive over the past month. It's by Charles Bukowski and there are too many reasons why i love it. it's been a comfort, a place to replace my anger, it's been my truth.
"me"
women don't know how to love,
she told me.
you know how to love
but women just want to
leech.
I know this because I'm a
woman.
hahaha, I laughed.
so don't worry about your breakup
with Susan
because she'll just leech onto
somebody else.
we talked awhile longer
then I said goodbye
hungup
went into the crapper and
took a good beershit
mainly thinking, well,
I'm still alive
and have the ability to expell
wastes from my body.
and poems.
and as long as that's happening
I have the ability to handle
betrayal
loneliness
hangnail
clap
and the economic reports in the
financial section.
with that
I stood up
wiped
flushed
then thought:
it's true:
I know how to
love.
I pulled up my pants and walked
into the other room.
hours later.
during the morning sunlight, we were all cuddled together, finally passed out.
Oakland rules.