Finally. A moment to myself.
Nothing like being whapped over the head with conversation the moment your feet hit the floor. I slept in longer than my bro and had no sooner walked into the room than I was assaulted with political dialogue and scathing commentary. Yeesh! If I do that to him I get cut off with short, angry replies. I attempt to be a bit more diplomatic, but DAMN! I just wanted to snap at him to shut up and leave me the fuck alone.
I’ve taken a good look around the house and seen what my brother is blind to: mess. Like it or not, I’m on cleaning duty today. Piles of dust bunnies in the hall aren’t helping either of us. Nor is the overflowing garbage and recycling.
Got ready for class yesterday: cleaned myself up, brushed my teeth and hair, changed clothes, readied my homework. By the time I was finished with all that I was too tired to go to class. Texted the teacher.
Began an old book on Russia. Dry reading to put me to sleep, written 60 or so years ago. It meanders in its subjects and has those older grammatical rules: grand sentences strung together to create one huge bloody paragraph with only one full stop. Even with my superior reading skills, I must re-read sentences a few times before getting all of it.
Took stock of my imagination the other day. Opened it up and considered all the stories I was cooking. Also took a look at Revenge Island and tested the waters to see if I was still so damned triggered by thoughts of D, the actor who was such a bitch to me. Nope. Couldn’t even sustain a full revenge fantasy; I’d get half way thru my imaginings and lose my train of thought. Good! I consider that progress.
…My bro has broached the subject that we may have something weird going on in the house again. He’s noted that he experiences late night problems at the same time I wake up coughing my lungs out. It’s happened several nights in a row now. This is nothing new to us. I laugh heartily at people who insist they must visit places that have had ‘violent death’ associated with it; in other words, a documented murder or two. Puh-leeze! I think it would be difficult to find a piece of land on which a human hasn’t died. I experience strange and unexplained stuff all the time. To me, it’s just part of life. So do I think something is in the house with us, bugging us both at the same time every night? I have no proof either way. And I won’t discount anything right now. In fact… I’m bending my head around using it. Why not? Old saying: write what you know. Well, this is what I know: sensations of people sitting on my bed when no one is there, people around me telling me they heard me call to them in the middle of the night, strange lights, unexplained electrical outages, voices, and some of the weirdest physical manifestations I’ve ever heard of. Like any good writer, I try to research my stuff. I’ve spent years looking up a few particular things, to no avail. Seems like I’m the only person who’s ever experienced them. And yes, if you’re wondering: it does leave me pondering the idea that I’m truly un-hinged and just don’t know it…
Hm. The break was great. My head feels better for letting go of Dutch for a few weeks. Did some great writing and came up with tons of new ideas.
But now the ghosts are knocking at my window, demanding I let them in.
… … …And I won’t say no.