Thursday, September 16, 2010
Its been a year and 8 months now and I still feel this time in the city is some sort of experiment. to find out if i can, and want to, be around so many many humans. what my stuff is about humans. my psych impairment stuff, my phobias, my ei, and just my goddam preference....its interesting how much of my annoyance, discontent and lack of access w/ being in town is about traffic. fucking cars. loud, fast, smelly, dominant. and fucking everywhere.
in the time its taken me to write these few sentences maybe 10 cars have sped by.
they especially wear my last nerve when i'm premenstrual. this is also when exposures in general feel way worse. I'm keenly aware of just how bad the air is. then, in the inevitable stay at home marathon that ensues in my attempt to avoid exposure to all things toxic/loud/hostile, i'm super vulnerable to daydream...ok...escapism.
and yeah, i daydream of my sheep. and my little mountain home. quiet. air. no cars. I'm not saying i ever want to live that completely alone again but christ, i could hear birds wings as they fly over the house. my sheep moving. the wind coming down the mountain before it reached my house.
whats vulnerable about the daydream is the tip into depression. inertia. dwelling on loss. scarcity.
somewhere in this hormonal,vulnerable state i wandered out of the house and into the thrift store and found this ceramic sheep sitting on a dusty musty shelf. its quite large, about a foot long and 9 inches high. i stared at it for a looong loooong time. i was feverish. i picked it up. i set it down. i picked it up again. then in a moment of compulsive need i whisked it away to the register and out the door.
when i hit the hot glare of the car-packed parking lot with my ceramic sheep gripped tightly against my chest i began to sob.
i miss them. I miss the mountains so so much.
I also cried because i'm now apparently one of those people that collect ceramic animals...