Learn to Swim

Some say the end is near. Some say we'll see Armageddon soon. I certainly hope we will. I sure could use a vacation from this bullshit three ring circus sideshow. 


Sat down and had a good crying jag this evening. Once again bit off more, not only than I can chew, but more than will fit in my mouth or on my plate or in my kitchen. I sure do like my life when it's off the rails, in the weeds, exploding. 


Some say a comet will fall from the sky. Followed by meteor showers and tidal waves. Followed by faultlines that cannot sit still.


And fuck that. This will be my next six weeks, in which I pretend my last name is Sommers, either Buffy or Jamie it doesn't matter, and I can do everything. 


The Bristol site has become, oddly, my temple of shock-a-buku, the place I need to go to get a swift spiritual kick to the head. I may be broken and crazier when I finish, but I don't think I will be.


I hate my parents for teaching me, possibly or definitely too early, that no one will take care of me. Blanche DuBois was right...I have always depended on the kindness of strangers...but it has also been true that everything I have, I have gotten for myself. My house and my four cars, (and I'd like it very much if people stopped crashing into my cars now, thankyouverymuch), my education and my body. I've written albums and I've written books, and I started a faire almost six years ago with $300 in my savings account. I've gotten myself out of some bad situations, and I will get myself the thing I want so much, that I'm afraid of jinxing but will happen. I've learned to float, and I've learned to dog paddle, and I will learn to goddamn snorkel if I need to. I'm the Spinet Chick, but I'm also Patrice Dark. 


Cuz I'm praying for rain. I'm praying for tidal waves. Learn to swim.