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05.16.2004 - 6:34 p.m.
Sunday
I'm not sure if I've told you
this before, but I am incredibly clumsy. I always, always
have bruises everywhere from running into things. At least once
a week I crash into my bedframe, or I stub my toe on my dresser,
or I run directly into the side of a doorway, or I thwack my
arm into an open drawer, or I cross my legs at work and bash
into my G4. Something. It's always something.
I accept this as my lot in
life, but what I'm not happy about is being MENTALLY clumsy,
too. Mental clumsiness does not a fine decision make. When JB
and I decided to drive down to their family cabin on Thursday
for a long weekend getaway, I thought it would be a stellar idea
if I spent a large majority of that trek down I5 pumping my arm
at truck drivers and squealing like an idiot if they blew their
horn in response. I also apparently thought it would be cool
to act like the world's biggest jackass in front of JB's brother
and girlfriend later that evening with only a thimbleful of sake
to use as an excuse.
Perhaps that is not mental
clumsiness, but early onslaught of senility? Can I play the senility
card at 30? Because I'd hate to think I'm simply turning into
a mouthbreathing fucknugget.
So - speaking of clumsiness
in general, let's look at a scenario together, shall we? Let's
say you need to pull a car door shut while you're sitting inside
the car. Now, a typical physiological process would probably
go like this:
BRAIN: Need to shut door. RIGHT
HAND? Go and ahead and pull on the handle. Make sure the FEET
are inside.
RIGHT HAND: Roger that BRAIN.
FEET, heads up. Ok, pulling…now. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.
BRAIN: Way to work, RIGHT HAND.
Nice job, FEET.
However, due to all that mental
clumsiness, let's say you decide to pull the door shut using
the outside edge of the door, thinking that you will pull it
almost all the way shut, just enough to get the door out of the
way of the bushes you're trying to avoid. Then things might go
like this:
BRAIN: Need to shut door partially.
RIGHT HAND, it would be smarter to use the handle, but go ahead
and pull on the edge. Watch those FEET.
RIGHT HAND: Uh, you sure
about not using the handle?
BRAIN: Listen, who's in charge
around here? Don't make me lop you off with the LEFT HAND because
given enough psychosis I could totally fucking do that.
RIGHT HAND: 10-4 BRAIN. FEET?
Out of the way. Pulling edge…now.
Now, thanks to the physical
clumsiness, that pull turns into a mighty yank. In fact, let's
say you go ahead and SLAM that fucker home. I mean, HARD.
RIGHT HAND: HOLY MOTHERFUCKING
SHIT I JUST SLAMMED A CAR DOOR ON ME OW OW OW OW OW JESUS OWWW!
BRAIN: Smooth move, Ex-Lax.
I slammed my hand in
a car door. From the inside.
Have you ever had your hand
slammed in a door? (Notice that I am not asking if you've ever
slammed your OWN hand in a car door, because I am thinking that's
reserved for those of us who ride the short bus.) It makes your
hand turn pretty colors. If "a hideous leprous purple and
black combo" means "pretty", that is. Also, your
fingers will swell to surprising dimensions! Your knuckles will
disappear entirely!
Obviously, I'm not typing this
with a Bic pen taped to my mouth right now (or AM I?) so I don't
think anything bonewise got smashed to calcium gruel, but jesus
christ. Next thing you'll know I'll be rushed off to an emergency
room because duh, silly me, I forgot how to work that whole inhaling
and exhaling thing.
Like I mentioned, JB and I
went to his family cabin for the last four days. This is a nice
place on the Umpqua River in southern Oregon. On the slimmest
of chances that you are familiar with various BFE locations in
Oregon, it's in a place called Wells Creek near Elkton.
JB's family has recently acquired
another house next door to their cabin, a fixer-upper, so JB
worked quite a bit while I lounged around with my finally-got-around-to-it-can't-believe-I-took-so-long
copy of Wolves of Calla. We relaxed together. Dog swam almost
constantly. We walked and looked out at rolling hills, the curving
river, the dark green of timber and the bright yellow scotchbroom.
I saw ospreys and deer and elk and wild turkeys. We had a nice
time.
Thanks for your nice words
lately. When you're going through a hard time, it makes a huge
difference to have support. Regardless of whether we've met in
person, your kindness makes a huge impact on me. Thank you for
that.
And with your willingness to
be open with me, some openness in return:
- My name is Linda. Hi. Nice
to meet you. You can keep on calling me Sundry, though. I like
it. It sounds like "sultry". Heh.
- JB's name is John. You can
call him JB, he likes that too. It stands for "Johnny Bravo".
Heh.
- The italicized words in my
last entry were pulled verbatim from John's recent emails to
me. He's a keeper, don't you think?
last ::: next
43
comments so far.
I have moved. - 1.03.2005
Obviously, a work in progress. - 12.27.2004
Happy holidays! - 12.24.2004
Listen, I am not a complete dick, it's not like I want Joe to die alone surrounded by cats or something. - 12.23.2004
Plus I am convinced my butt is extra big when it's upside down. - 12.22.2004
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