Love for R.L. Burnside

Fisher of fish...

Went fishing yesterday with a good friend. Haven't been in a long time. I caught four bluegill and three bass! We were catching and releasing of course. It was so very satisfying, especially considering he only caught two bass. :) I am the queen. Of fish.

So yesterday was a good day. We ate crawfish and drank beer and hung out until after midnight. It was almost like having a life. Go me!

Blues, they're what's for breakfast.

My ex recently said something smart. "This is the Delta. Home of the Blues. You know why? This place hasn't changed in 100 years."

The Duke Spirit - "Dog Roses" (Tripwire Acoustic Session) from The Tripwire on Vimeo.

Why no, I'm not from around here. Earth, I mean.

I'm sitting here this morning being jealous of my ex-boyfriend fishing with his seven year old son. Not in a bad jealous way. Mainly because he and I never got to go fishing together before TSHTF*. I'm also pissed off because my friend at Notre Dame isn't writing me back after two weeks, and although I know he's busy and has a life, sheesh. Throw me a bone here.

So.

They are selling boiled crawfish out of that trailer down on 61 North. Spring has arrived in Mississippi. It's not the groundhog you watch around here. It's Tbeaux's.

I'm sick of writing about depressing shit. These are the things I know:

I don't want to be here.
I don't want things to have gone wrong with my ex.
I have hope for a future I can't yet imagine.
I wake up every day feeling pretty crappy about life.
I need a job and I cannot find one.

That pretty much sums it up. My brain has been a mess the past few days. I have cried my way through an entire box of tissues. That's a lot of snot, people, because I don't just blow once and throw it away. I use that lil fucker UP.

I'm slowly accepting that I am not some sort of special super genius empathic magical being, which may come as a surprise to my friends who've been trying to explain to me how NOT a piece of shit I am. Call me conflicted. My self-image may be in the toilet, but my imaginary hopeful self-image was not. You know, it's that same hopeful self-image that some people have when they tell themselves they MUST be adopted? Well, I have secretly hoped, somehow, beyond all rationality, that I MUST NOT BE FROM HERE.

Anyway.

Carry on.

*TSHTF: The shit hit the fan. Used in many contexts.

Exercise, cont.

Who am I?

I am someone who will tell you more than you wanted to know about me.

Yep, that's me. I've learned the hard way that not everyone wants to discuss things in minute detail, especially emotional things. I enjoy it. I enjoy analyzing things and figuring them out, in order to avoid future confusion. I know I can't expect all other people to feel the same way, but if they are going to be close to me, they have to accept the fact that I NEED TO DO THIS. It's not a form of torture. I swear.

I enjoy being outdoors when it's nice. I like walking/hiking in a laid-back fashion, but nothing competitive. I love fishing but I'm not great at it. I like camping when everything is going right, not when a thunderstorm comes in the middle of the night and blows your tent away.

But I also enjoy the finer things of life, like fine dining, going to concerts, shopping, having my hair done, getting a massage. Can I afford these things now? No.

My ideal car in an ideal world where oil was not a pollutant or outrageously expensive, would be this:

It is a flat black Lotus Elise.

But this is more likely to fit my lifestyle:

 This is a 2011 Brilliant Black Crystal Pearl Jeep Cherokee Laredo.


Yeah, I'm daydreaming.

Boots

The boots belonged to someone else
They never fit quite right,
Turned out a bit too much at the heel
Pinching a bit too much at the toe
But they were good boots, the leather was sound
And the soles had no holes
No holes, that's important
Solid boots for walking and working
Polished the leather to a soft shine
They really were a nice shade of brown
With stitching
Tough boots for wandering and losing oneself
But never tough enough for losing someone else
Those soles, whole and unbroken
Never could protect from broken hearts
Or broken promises
The shine of that leather couldn't brighten the shadows
Cast by the lies
The boots picked up dust in their travels
And scars
So much stronger than the person who wore them
Whose scars didn't show
Whose leather would not polish
Whose soul had so many holes.

Exercise

So I'm told I should do this exercise to help shore up my sense of self. Ok.

Things I Like:

The color blue, especially old blue bottles
Horses
Baby animals
Painting
Cooking
Sushi
Meat
Being touched (by the right person)
Affection (see above)
Coffee
Morning conversations
White noise when I sleep
Traveling
Spending time with the one I love
Feeling safe
Self-expression
Writing (poetry, etc.)
Reading (mostly fiction)
Meaningful work
Gardening
Happy drunks

Things I Don't Like:

Being talked down to
Being belittled
Being devalued
Useless criticism
Meanness/cruelty
Verbal/emotional abuse
Prolonged physical distance
Cold rainy days
Bland food
Snobbery
Money-hungry fucks
Complications
Being lonely
Boredom
Drudgery
Instability (though all too familiar)
Snoring
Mean drunks

Sleeping Beauty?

So imagine that Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger (perceived loss of innocence) and put her innocent self to sleep, surrounded herself with twisted, prickly, protective briars, and lay there for years. Along came the one man (or person) who believed she was worth fighting through all that armor to reach. His kiss, acceptance that herself was still intact, just waiting to be awakened by a true Hero. There aren't many out there.